Beyond Redemption
by Davesmom
Summary: COMPLETE...(books 1-4) Didn't add anything, just tweaked a few chapters to leave fewer loose ends...6th year Ginny finds that Draco has focused all his hatred on her. She has to find some way to make him leave her alone, regardless of the cost.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling except the few original characters I added since we never learned any of Ginny's classmate's names except for Colin Creevey. If there is anything else in the story that I made up (besides plot) I will do a disclaimer at the head of the chapter, otherwise, this is it for the entire story!  
  
A/N: The prologue is based on the premise (mine, not necessarily JKR's) that Lucius is closer in age to Molly and Arthur, rather than the Marauders. This explains why there is such animosity between the families. Also, the references to the Quidditch teams the Holyfield Harpies (the only all woman team in the world) and the Falmouth Falcons comes from the book, Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp (proceeds from which are donated to charity according to the back of the book). Finally, I estimate that each new class (or year) has about seven to twelve students per house (based on the names we got from the first book). If you think there are more, that's okay, but you will see one or two references to the actual number of students in the Slytherin seventh year class and remember, it's only an estimate and only my opinion.  
  
Anyone who has read my previous stories under the name of Davesmom might be in for a shock. As far as I can tell, this story is not fluffy at all, and doesn't look to be any time in the near future. Many thanks to w&mlaw for her encouragement and everyone who has read any of my other fluff, er, I mean, stuff!  
  
  
  
Beyond Redemption  
  
The young woman was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. The reason was standing before her. Six feet of silver blond, gray-eyed, privileged, arrogant, murderous filth called Lucius Malfoy. And right now the piece of filth was pointing a small object at her with deadly intent.  
  
"Come, Molly," he drawled in silky, superior tones. "Must it be this way? Only agree to marry me and we can forget this unfortunate incident ever happened."  
  
Molly's voluptuous frame shuddered as she looked into the cold handsome face. There was no kindness or affection in the hard gray eyes. The only reason Lucius Malfoy had any interest in her, Molly Donovan, was that her pure wizarding bloodline could be traced back to before the conquest. She knew that Lucius heavily supported the self-styled Lord Voldemort, the evil upstart wizard. She also knew that any normal woman who married Lucius Malfoy would probably be insane or dead within a few years. Or possibly under a permanent Imperius curse. Molly knew what he had planned. A Donovan marry one of the evil wizard's most loyal supporters would sway many in the wizarding community to support Voldemort. But he'd already tried the Imperius curse on her and she had thrown it off. So he had kidnapped her and brought her to this dank, forgotten cell somewhere in the hills above Hogsmeade. And it would be here that he would probably kill her.  
  
Molly shuddered violently again. Keeping the image of the only man she loved in her mind, she closed her eyes and answered, "Go ahead, Malfoy!" She spat out the name as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Kill me now because I'll never marry you! And Arthur will track you down, you know. He'll track you down and kill you!"  
  
At hearing the name of his rival, Lucius' eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to the lovely redhead. Molly would have tried to push him away, but her hands were securely fastened to iron rings in the wall. Lucius lifted the deadly object, as though to strike Molly, but stopped suddenly. He smiled; an evil smile that hinted of deeper cruelty. Instead, he touched the cold metal object to Molly's smooth cheek as though caressing her. Molly flinched and turned her face away.  
  
Lucius laughed cruelly. "Ah, Molly, you think you're frightened now, but I promise, before I'm through with you, you'll know what real fear is. Do you know what this is, my dove?" he asked, hefting the thing so she could clearly see it.  
  
Molly closed her eyes and refused to answer. This time the object did strike, laying open the soft skin along her jaw. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.  
  
"Ah, yes, Molly the Gryffindor. So brave, so strong. Don't worry, my dove. You'll be screaming before long. Then, maybe, if you beg nicely, I'll point this gun at you and put you out of your misery."  
  
Tears seeped from Molly's eyes, but she made no sound. Lucius laughed again.  
  
"Imagine the uproar when the daughter of one of our first families is found brutalized, and raped, and murdered with a Muggle weapon! They'll flock to my lord in droves! In fact, this will be a more successful ploy than marrying you! I should have thought of it long ago!" His harsh laughter filled the small cell where she was kept prisoner.  
  
He stopped suddenly, fixing his cold, silver gaze on her. "You know, you always were a pretty thing. Arthur will barely recognize you when I'm through with you!"  
  
He pocketed the gun and reached out to the neck of her robes. With one swift, downward yank, he ripped the garment all the way to her waist.  
  
"Gawd," he exclaimed as he saw what he'd revealed. "Damned Muggle-lover! Must you wear these disgusting Muggle clothes?"  
  
He twisted his fist into the material of the bright tie-dyed tee shirt she wore under her robes, but the synthetic fabric refused to rip. All he succeeded in doing was to break the long strands of colorful beads she wore round her neck. The tiny beads pattered to the floor and rolled off in all directions.  
  
"Hell with it," he hissed, releasing the front of the shirt. He jerked the hem from the denim bell-bottom jeans she wore. Pulling the shirt well above the generously filled brassiere, he reached out both hands to grasp her breasts. Molly groaned in disgust. "I think I'm really going to enjoy this," he muttered, thrusting his hips forward and pinning her against the wall. His hands were greedily kneading her firm flesh. He moved one hand down to the button of her pants when she suddenly shrieked and forced her knee upward, between his legs, into his most vulnerable of places. Lucius straightened, his face shocked and disbelieving. His mouth moved, but he seemed unable to utter a sound. Then he doubled over, cradling his injured groin and trying to hitch in a breath. He was still right in front of her, so Molly brought her knee up again, this time making solid contact with the hated, perfect, straight nose he always looked down. Lucius' head snapped back with the force and he went stumbling backward, blood flying from his spouting nose.  
  
Molly knew neither blow had been permanently disabling and that he would make her suffer for the pain she'd caused him, but she felt a dull, fatalistic satisfaction that she had gotten some of her own back. Minutes ticked by while Lucius lay, barely moving, on the floor. Molly tried desperately to free her hands from the iron manacles. She twisted her wrists, lacerating the flesh and causing them to bleed. She hoped that the blood might help her hands glide from the iron bands, but they were too tight. She only succeeded in losing the feeling in her hands. Lucius was still doubled up, cupping his genitals with one hand and trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose with the other. Finally he pushed himself into a sitting position. The bleeding had stopped. The look he gave Molly chilled her more than anything previously had. Then he stood. His first attempt brought a howl of pain and caused him to fall to his knees again. After a few more minutes, Lucius got first one, then the other leg under him. He stood, swaying slightly and still cupping himself.  
  
Molly thought that if he was this unsteady, she might be able to score another kick before he could attack her again. She almost felt a bit of hope until he groped into the pocket of his expensive dark green robes. The blood drained from Molly's face. He needn't come close to harm her with that! Lucius smiled again.  
  
"So you do know what this is, my dove?" he sneered. He looked lovingly at the small handgun he held. "One of the few Muggle inventions I approve of." He lifted his arm and leveled the weapon at her head.  
  
Molly's eyes widened, then she closed them and leaned her head back. "Arthur," she breathed.  
  
Lucius paused, his lip curling into a sneer. "That pathetic, impoverished Muggle-lover can't help you now. He disgraces the name of Wizardry. You should thank me for saving you from a life of poverty and ignominy. Good- bye, Molly, love. I don't think I'll miss you."  
  
His finger tightened on the trigger when a large, heavy object crashed into the side of his skull. Lucius staggered sideways, and fell in a heap on the cold, stone floor. The gun flew from his hand to clatter harmlessly into a corner.  
  
"Accio!" a voice shouted. The gun floated through the air into the hand of a tall, skinny young man with fiery red hair.  
  
"ARTHUR!" Molly shouted, tears springing again to her eyes.  
  
Arthur Weasley hurried to Molly, wand in one hand, gun in the other. Keeping a cautious eye on Lucius, Arthur released Molly from her bonds and cast a clumsy repair spell on the ripped robes. Then he turned his full attention to Malfoy. A dangerous, burning light came into his eyes as he advanced on the crumpled figure.  
  
"Arthur," Molly whispered. "Be careful."  
  
Her warning was prophetic. As Arthur approached, Lucius suddenly sprang up and pointed his wand at him.  
  
Arthur was already dodging to the side when Lucius shouted, "Crucio!"  
  
The spell shot past Arthur, but before he could counter, Lucius shouted, "Accio!" The gun soared from Arthur's slack grip to Lucius' waiting hand. He lifted it, but when he saw Arthur's wand cover him, he disapparated. Molly ran to Arthur and he crushed her against him.  
  
"Oh, Molly, love, I was so worried! What if I hadn't got here on time?"  
  
Arthur's robes muffled Molly's soft sobs. He gently pulled her face back so he could look at her. His eyes narrowed when he saw the jagged cut on her cheek. Then he examined her poor, lacerated wrists.  
  
"That son of a bitch," he hissed. "I'll get him. I don't care how long it takes, but he'll pay for hurting you!"  
  
He brought his wand up and touched it to the wound on her cheek. The edges of the wound glowed softly, and then began to close. He healed the wrists as well. In minutes Molly had only a faint scar to mark where Lucius had struck her. Arthur smiled at his lovely Molly.  
  
"There's my brave girl," he told her. He gathered her into his arms and comforted her, trying to ease her fear. "I'm not sure what you did to Malfoy, but he wasn't looking quite the thing, even before I struck him." He indicated the heavy wooden staff that was lying several feet away. "Whatever it was, though, it was enough to give me time to get here." He cocked a bright red eyebrow at her in a silent question.  
  
Molly almost laughed. She gave Arthur a brief account of Lucius' injuries at her hands, or rather, her knees. Arthur did laugh.  
  
"It would be a great thing for all concerned if you ruptured his plumbing and sterilized him!"  
  
Molly looked horrified, but then dissolved into howls of laughter. She was laughing so hard she started crying, and she kept apologizing to Arthur for her fit of hysteria. Finally subsiding, she said, "I suppose we won't be that lucky, though. Like as not, there'll be another arrogant, evil Malfoy to terrorize our children!"  
  
Arthur nodded, wrapping an arm around his fiancé. He led her to the crumbled stairway, and up the stairs. All of a sudden, he stopped. Grasping Molly's shoulders, he turned her toward him.  
  
"Our children, love?" he asked breathlessly.  
  
Molly flushed and looked down, scuffing a small foot. "I couldn't let that filthy scum touch me, Arthur, love. Not when I was carrying our baby."  
  
Arthur looked utterly flabbergasted, then wrapped his arms around his beautiful woman and crushed her against him.  
  
"I love you, Mol."  
  
"And I love you, Arthur."  
  
  
  
There was no trial for Lucius Malfoy. His father had bought, bribed or threatened anyone connected with the case. As there was no physical proof that Lucius had kidnapped, beaten, and threatened Molly Donovan, the charges were dropped. As to using an unforgivable curse, the wand that was used that night was never recovered, so that, too, couldn't be proven. But the memory of being bested, first by a tiny slip of a woman, then by her dirt-poor, gangly, nobody of a lover festered in Lucius' soul. He worked steadily to increase his knowledge of the dark arts and gain power in the service of Voldemort, but his hatred of Molly and Arthur never dimmed. When, several years later, he finally married a vacant, empty-headed trophy wife and got himself an heir, he set to work to instill in his young impressionable son an equally virulent hatred of the impoverished Weasley family.  
  
As for Molly and Arthur, they were indeed poor, but only in material goods. Molly bore Arthur seven healthy children; six boys and one sunny, tiny, and passably attractive girl. In general, they were very happy. Arthur never forgot the anguish Lucius Malfoy had caused him, or the terror he'd put Molly through. Arthur's job was low paying, but he knew that Lucius had a weakness for bewitching Muggle objects and turning them loose on the unsuspecting Muggle public. He was a demon about tracking down anything that could be traced back to Malfoy. Although what he was doing was more harassment than injurious, Arthur felt that he was getting some slight revenge for what they had suffered at his hands.  
  
Molly stayed home and raised the children, teaching them their basics of Arithmetic, Reading, Spelling, Magical History, and Geography. They lived in a rather out-of-the-way place, far from the mainstream of Wizarding life, but also far from casual contact with Muggles. And when enough years had passed for her only daughter to start thinking seriously about boys (Molly never really considered Ginny's little-girl crush on Harry Potter as serious, though he was such a dear boy), Molly took a fourteen-year-old Ginny aside for a cozy chat. As she considered her words, she wondered again why Malfoy couldn't have had his son years before, when Ginny wouldn't be susceptible to a handsome boy only a year older than her. As gently as possible, Molly gave Ginny the bare facts of what had happened. She explained that although she didn't imagine Lucius had told young Draco what had happened between the Weasleys and himself, he had obviously fostered hatred in the youngster for the Weasley family. She warned that the hatred might even be more pronounced toward Ginny, being a girl and more vulnerable, and that he might try to use Ginny to humiliate and hurt her. Ginny had nodded solemnly, but had told her mother not to worry. Malfoy, that is, Draco, hated them all equally, and the idea that he might have any interest in her, even pretend to be interested in her, was laughable. Molly only nodded. She'd done what she could and would have to trust to luck and Ginny's own instinct for survival for the rest. 


	2. Chapter One

The Gryffindor Common Room was crowded with noisy students making plans for the holidays on this evening in mid-December. There was a large, warm fire burning in the hearth, the walls were decorated with festive garlands and bright bows, and cheerful Christmas music was playing in the background from some enterprising Muggle-born student's portable stereo. In all, it seemed, as Colin Creevey would say in his Muggle-speak, 'a Kodak moment'.  
  
Ginny Weasley sat with a few other sixth year students at one of the tables against the wall. The others were watching, fascinated, as Ginny demonstrated a skill she'd picked up from Fred and George when she'd worked in their joke shop over the summer holiday.  
  
"Go on, Gin," Colin said, holding up his ever-present camera. "Once more, so I can show Mum and Dad!"  
  
Ginny pushed back a lock of the shoulder length red hair that curled about her face and grinned. "All right, Colin, just once more, but I don't know how well it will show up on film."  
  
Ginny dipped her quill in her inkbottle and looked around at the other students. She handed the quill to her best friend, Ariel Johnson.  
  
"Come on, Ari, I haven't done yours yet," Ginny said coaxingly.  
  
The tall black girl looked dubiously at the quill. "You know I don't like-- -," Ariel began. Ginny cut her off.  
  
"Lord, Ari, do you think I'm going to forge love letters in your name?"  
  
The other students urged her on, and Ariel finally agreed. "What should I write?" she asked.  
  
"Anything," Ginny answered. "Just as long as it's a good sample of your writing."  
  
Ariel thought for a moment, then wrote: Have a Happy Christmas and a Joyous New Year.  
  
She handed the parchment she'd written on and the quill to Ginny. Ginny studied the writing for a moment, re-inked the quill, and started just below Ariel's message.  
  
Have a Happy Christmas and a Joyous New Year, she wrote in a perfect imitation of Ariel's writing. Colin snapped several pictures and the others applauded. Ariel looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything.  
  
"Well, that's it," Ginny said, scooting her chair back and standing. Colin put his camera down and picked up the parchment.  
  
"I have got to get a video camera!" he said, then remembered that some Muggle technology didn't work on the Hogwarts ground. At least according to Hermione Granger and Hogwarts; a History. He absently folded the parchment, but Ginny snatched it from his hand. She studied the several different messages and her perfect imitation of the various hands. Grinning at Colin, she crumpled the parchment into a ball.  
  
"Can't leave the evidence lying around, now, can I?"  
  
She walked to the fire and tossed the ball of parchment in, watching the flames devour it. It was something Fred and George had drilled into her when they'd taught her this particular little trick. Always get rid of the evidence. Ginny frowned, then shrugged. She wasn't hurting anyone, and she wouldn't think of actually forging anything real. It was nothing more than a cheap parlor trick she used to pass time and not think. She turned back to where Ariel was waiting for her and the two girls headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.  
  
"How DO you do that, Ginny," Ariel asked when they were alone.  
  
Ginny shrugged again. "Dunno, Fred just showed me what to do, and I did it. Ron tried, too, but he couldn't get the hang of it." Ginny gave her friend a weak smile. "It's just in fun, Ari. You know I'd never really use it for anything. Just a way to pass time."  
  
Ariel shook her head, thinking her friend sounded preoccupied. She considered asking her what was bothering her. Then she changed her mind. Gin would tell her when she was ready. "You staying for the holidays, then?" she asked mildly.  
  
"Yeah," Ginny said without enthusiasm. "Bill's wife had her baby last week and Mum and Dad are going to spend the holidays with them. So Ron and I are stuck here."  
  
They entered the small room they had shared for the last five and a half years. Ginny wandered over to Ariel's bed and sat in the middle of the mattress. She picked up the picture of Ariel and her sister Angelina, courtesy of Colin. Ariel was mugging and making faces, and Angelina, in her Gryffindor Quidditch robes, was rolling her eyes.  
  
"So how is Angelina doing? Does she like playing for the Holyfield Harpies?" Ginny wished she were as good a chaser as Angelina had been. Then maybe she would also be scouted for a professional Quidditch team.  
  
"She loves it, except that it's just women on their team. She misses playing with men."  
  
Ginny looked up suddenly and met Ariel's eyes. Both girls broke into loud laughter when they realized what Ariel had said. Ariel recovered first and wiped her eyes.  
  
"I didn't mean it THAT way, Gin. You're just perverted!"  
  
"Hey, you started laughing first!" Ginny accused. That set them off again. After they had their laugh, Ginny set the picture down and moved to her own bed. After washing up, brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas, Ginny crawled into her bed. Ariel extinguished the lights in the room.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us for the holidays, Gin," Ariel asked.  
  
Ginny pulled the blankets up to her chin. Ariel and Angelina, along with their older brother Anthony and his wife and kids would be crowding into the Johnson home. She would love to stay, especially since it would get her out of Hogwarts for a while, but she would feel like an intruder. Besides, she'd checked the list of those staying and Draco Malfoy's name had not been on it. That was a relief. He had been worse than usual lately.  
  
"Thanks, Ari, I really appreciate the offer. But I think I'll keep Ron company. Besides, it will be two weeks without trying to avoid Malfoy. And right now, I could really use that."  
  
"All right, Ginny, but we still have a few days, so if you change your mind, just let me know, 'kay?"  
  
Ginny smiled and thanked all the fates that she had such a good friend. "Okay. G'night, Ari."  
  
"And, Ginny?"  
  
"Mmmm?" came the sleepy reply.  
  
"If you ever need to, you know, talk?" She left the words hanging.  
  
Ginny wondered if her preoccupation with Malfoy and the hard time he'd been giving her lately was that obvious. Finally she said with affection, "I know, Ari. And I appreciate it. G'night."  
  
Ariel sighed. "Good night, Gin."  
  
  
  
Ginny approached her magical healing class the next day with a feeling of foreboding. She'd had a bad feeling all morning and it seemed to be focused on this class. An average student in most areas of study, Ginny had found that she had an extraordinary talent for healing. So much so, that she was rapidly advanced through her own year studies and was placed in a seventh year class. Unfortunately, her schedule was so tight with the other required classes that she had been placed in the Slytherin seventh year healing class. If the headmaster hadn't made the subject a required class for all fifth years and up, she would have dropped it. She even tried to argue that she had already finished the course work for her current year. But her arguments fell on deaf ears. Even her own Head of House, Professor McGonagall, had brushed off her concerns.  
  
"You, Miss Weasley, will be expected to set an example for the other students. Remember that you are a Weasley and a Gryffindor," the Transfiguration instructor had admonished in her stern voice. Then she had relented a bit. "Besides, Miss Weasley," she'd added. "I needn't tell you that with the rise of He Who Must Not Be Named, we will need all our healers trained to their fullest capabilities."  
  
Ginny had understood, but she couldn't help wondering bitterly at the time what kind of example she was supposed to set? How to be the perfect scapegoat for arrogant, sodding gits who hated poor, smart Gryffindors? Of course none of the Slytherins had liked her being in the class, but Draco Malfoy had seemed to take it as a personal affront. She knew he had complained to Professor Snape, who had made it his mission to make her life hell in Potions. Not only did she have to put up with Malfoy's abuse in the hallways and classroom, but Professor Snape now made snide remarks about her in her Potions class, as well.  
  
Ginny took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the tension knotting up in her shoulders. She loved the class, but hated coming here every day. Come on, Ginny, she told herself. Two more days, and Malfoy will be gone for the holidays! Two blessed Malfoy-free weeks! Ginny straightened her shoulders and opened the door to her Healing classroom. She could make it through two more days. Besides, how much worse could it get?  
  
Ginny had cause to remember those words. It could get a lot worse. Class had been going along fine. Being so close to the end of the term, they were doing mostly review work and the instructor, a former medi-wizard for the Falmouth Falcons Quidditch team, wasn't asking many questions. Those he did ask were simple enough for even Gregory Goyle to answer. But toward the end of class he had pulled out a different book and held it up. Ginny recognized it as one she had been reading occasionally in the library. It contained treatments for wounds caused by dark magic. It had been on the list of texts they would need to study from, but wasn't scheduled until the next term. Ginny's feeling of foreboding became more pronounced.  
  
"I realize we weren't planning to use this text until next term," Medic Timmons said in his light mellow voice. "But have any of you taken the time to look it over yet?"  
  
Unlike Hermione Granger, Ginny seldom volunteered to answer questions, and almost never did so in this class. She kept her hands firmly on the table.  
  
Medic Timmons frowned at the class. No hands were raised. "Come, now," he cajoled. "Surely some of you have at least flipped through the pages?"  
  
The Slytherins moved uneasily in their seats, trying to avoid his direct, questioning glance. Ginny found her chipped nail polish suddenly very interesting.  
  
"No one was the least curious about healing dark magic wounds?" the medic asked, disbelieving. "Miss Weasley, I'm sure I saw you leafing through this book in the library, just last week."  
  
Ginny's face turned red. She could feel the hostile stares from the other students, and an especially malevolent feeling was coming from where Malfoy sat behind her. She looked up at the instructor and said in a shaky voice, "I suppose, uh, that, uh I might have glanced through it, sir."  
  
The snicker from behind her made Ginny's blood boil. "She supposes she might have looked," she heard Malfoy sneer quietly. "Of course, being a stupid little weasel, she wouldn't be sure about it."  
  
Ginny's face burned when she heard the sniggers from Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. She wanted to turn around and slap his face, but knew she didn't have the courage for it. She didn't care about the points it might cost Gryffindor, she just once longed to be able to put the arrogant bastard in his place.  
  
Medic Timmons had apparently heard Malfoy's comment, too. His eyes narrowed and he strode toward Malfoy's desk.  
  
"My, my, you certainly have a lot to say, Mr. Malfoy," the medic said in a smooth voice. "Why don't you tell the class what pearls of knowledge you've gleaned from this text? I'll assume that since you were making comments to Miss Weasley, you were discussing your common studies, and not, as it seemed, using MY class time to carry out your personal feud. I am right, am I not?"  
  
Ginny smiled slightly. She would have turned to smirk at Malfoy, but she wasn't an idiot. If the instructor chose to single him out for a reprimand, that was great, but she wouldn't give him any reason to take it out on her. Her smile froze, though, when Medic Timmons continued.  
  
"Nothing useful to add, Mr. Malfoy? Well, then," he said musingly, "I think I'll have a little contest." He returned to the front of the classroom and erased the notes from the chalkboard. He then wrote a large letter 'G' and a large letter 'S'.  
  
"This will be an easy way for you to earn points for your house," he informed them with a hard smile.  
  
"I'm going to ask questions from this book," he said, indicating the text in question. He held up his hands for quiet as the students started protesting. "Read your course list again," he said firmly. "This text is not scheduled until after the holidays, but it was made clear that if you were ahead of schedule, we would use it this term."  
  
Ignoring the groans from the class, he continued. "I will try to keep the questions to the more simple and common sense, but for every correct answer, I will award your house five points. Keep two things in mind. First, this seems like an excellent opportunity for those of you in Slytherin to earn more points than Gryffindor, as there are eight of you and only one Gryffindor. And second," his eyes became as hard as his smile and he looked directly over Ginny's head. "Second," he repeated, "you have Mr. Malfoy to thank for this little contest. I will not tolerate students abusing one another in my classes."  
  
Ginny's heart sank as she heard the hisses and comments the Slytherins directed toward Malfoy. He had been publicly dressed down by a teacher, and would, of course, blame her.  
  
Medic Timmons flipped through the pages, then paused. "First question: What is the antidote for the 'Draught of Living Death'?"  
  
Ginny was torn. She knew the answer, and wanted to earn points for Gryffindor, but it was hard enough being in this class without showing up the Slytherins. Suddenly, Medic Timmons said, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"An infusion of foxglove to stimulate the heart mixed with ground bezoars to work the poison from the system," Malfoy drawled. He added in a voice only Ginny could hear, "Even a sixth year should have known that."  
  
"Correct!" the medic shouted and made a tick mark under the 'S'. "That's five points for Slytherin. Next question!"  
  
Ginny burned from Malfoy's insult. It was also a challenge, and she couldn't back down this time. She raised her hand quickly and answered the question.  
  
"Correct!" Timmons said, and Gryffindor got a tick mark.  
  
Ginny lost track of the questions, but by the end of the class there were sixteen neatly drawn marks under the 'G', and seven under the 'S'. Malfoy had made all of the Slytherin points, but Ginny had just earned Gryffindor eighty points all by herself!  
  
Medic Timmons smiled as the bell rang. "Very good, class. I'm surprised and impressed. I think for your efforts, we'll save this book for after the holidays, after all! Don't forget, one thousand words on why an understanding of anatomy is important in healing! Due tomorrow! And Miss Weasley, a word, please?"  
  
Ginny waited until everyone was moving toward the door, then made her way to the front of the classroom.  
  
"Eighty points, Miss Weasley, very well done!" Medic Timmons beamed at her as she approached the medi-wizard's desk. Ginny blushed.  
  
"I know it's difficult to be in this class, Miss Weasley," he added gently. "But you are smart and strong. If I didn't feel you were up to it, I would have released you from class months ago. We'll need healers like you in future, you know, so keep up the good work!"  
  
He dismissed her and Ginny gathered her things to leave. She was so elated, she actually forgot about Malfoy. Eighty points! She'd never earned more than five or ten points a year by herself before. Just wait until she told Ariel! Ginny was hurrying down the hallway toward her next class. Since she was a sixth year and in a different House than her fellow Healing students, her other classes were usually nowhere near the seventh year Slytherins. She could hear them heading toward their next class and was glad her class took her in the opposite direction. She hurried down the deserted hallway, barely noting where she was going. Suddenly, she was yanked into a dark side corridor and shoved, face first, against the rough wall.  
  
Ginny's gasped with pain as her face struck the wall. She could feel the rough stone scraping and cutting her cheek. She couldn't move, though, not even enough to see who was holding her. Whoever had pulled her in here was still jamming her against the wall. She felt a painful pressure in her shoulder as her assailant twisted her arm behind her and leaned against it. A strong arm was laid across the back of her neck, making her face scrape against the rough stones again. Then she heard the silky, sneering voice hissing in her ear.  
  
"Think you're soooo smart, do you, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy's voice dripped with contempt. "You made me look a fool. Now, I'm going to make you very sorry you were born."  
  
Ginny was sick with fright. This passageway was deserted and there were no more classes scheduled up here until after lunch. The chances of anyone happening along to rescue her were slim.  
  
"Nothing to say, Weasley?" Malfoy sneered, twisting her wrist up higher and forcing it almost to her shoulder blades. "You had plenty to say in class, though, didn't you? You would have done better to keep your mouth shut, little weasel. But now you can get as loud as you want. No one will hear you! And maybe," the sneering, smooth voice dropped a bit lower, almost caressingly, "if you beg enough, I won't hurt you too much!"  
  
Ginny had been about to cry out in pain, but Malfoy's words blazed into her brain, making her blood boil. She hadn't done anything to him! He'd started it all with his stupid insult! She would die before she let him see how much she was hurting! Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced out one word.  
  
"Coward!" she hissed at him. The pressure in her shoulder became excruciating as he leaned in harder.  
  
"What did you just call me?" he hissed back, right in her ear.  
  
"You're-a-coward-Draco-Malfoy!" Ginny had to force the words out separately to keep from screaming them.  
  
Malfoy dragged her away from the wall. Ginny steeled herself, expecting him to slam her into the wall again. Instead, he spun her around, and shoved her back against the wall. He gripped her throat with both hands and pressed his thumbs against her windpipe.  
  
"You conceited bitch," he hissed at her, moving closer. His face, contorted with rage, was inches from hers. "Do you think you can get away with calling me that? I should just strangle you right now and do the world a favor." He gradually tightened his grip on her throat, watching her face as though waiting for her reaction.  
  
Ginny felt like he was strangling her. She grabbed at his hands, and although she could barely breathe, she forced her words through the agonized burning in her throat.  
  
"Must be proud, Malfoy! So brave and strong! Beating up a girl half your size!" The words were choked, but clear enough for Malfoy to understand.  
  
Bitch!" he hissed again, and raised his left hand.  
  
Ginny saw his raised hand and acted with desperate panic. With her last strength, she brought her knee up forcefully. The impact with Malfoy's groin was so hard Ginny thought she felt his pubic bones strike her kneecap. She had the grim satisfaction of seeing Malfoy's eyes widen in surprise and shock before it settled into a mask of pain. He backed away, hands cupping his genital area, then doubled over. Ginny leaned back against the wall, dragging in breath after painful breath, watching in horrified fascination. Malfoy fell bonelessly to the cold tiles, still cupping himself and groaning in agony. Ginny cautiously bent to gather her book bag from where it had fallen but jumped back in alarm when Malfoy snaked an arm out toward her. His hand locked around her ankle. Ginny tried to pull away, but couldn't. Even in his agony, he was horribly strong. Finally, frantic, she sat clumsily and kicked awkwardly at his arm. Her foot connected with surprising force and she heard the sickening double snap as his wrist broke. He finally let go, now trying to cradle his wrist as well as his injured groin. Ginny scooted away, shoving her bag behind her as she pushed herself into the main hallway. She stared at Malfoy for another moment, her mind already telling her what a horrible thing she'd done. She looked desperately up and down the hall, wondering if she should get help. Then his eyes opened and Ginny gasped at the intensity of his glare  
  
"Not-over-yet-Weasley," he gritted out, and then closed his eyes.  
  
Ginny grabbed her bag and fled.  
  
Thankfully, the girls' bathroom on this floor was empty. Ginny stumbled in and, after fumbling with the lock for a second, stood back to the door for several moments. Pulling out her wand and keeping it handy, she finally moved to the row of sinks and mirrors along the wall. She cringed at what she saw. The entire left side of her face was a patchwork of scrapes, tears and bruises. She trembled, remembering how murderous Malfoy had looked. She hadn't suspected that even Malfoy could be so brutal. If she hadn't kicked him, he would have beaten her. That is, if he hadn't strangled her to death. With shaky hands, Ginny splashed water on her face and assessed the damage again. Now that it was over, it didn't hurt very much. She figured that was because she still had gallons of adrenalin pumping through her system. Her shoulder and throat, however, were another matter. She wondered if Malfoy had dislocated something when he'd forced her arm behind her.  
  
Ginny lifted her wand toward her face, and had to bite back a cry of pain. Even lifting her wand arm was agonizing. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then she studied her face again. If Ron saw any of this, he would kill Malfoy. Not just bluster and shout, but outright kill him. Ginny thought grimly that perhaps that mightn't be so bad, but having Ron in Azkaban for murder would be. She gently tapped the left cheek and whispered a healing spell, her throat in agony as she uttered the words. The cuts closed, the scrapes mended and the bruising faded. The pain lingered a bit, but would soon be gone.  
  
"That wasn't so bad, then, right?" she asked the frightened girl in the mirror. Then she spun to the toilet, and violently threw up. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter 2  
  
Ginny managed to make her way through the remainder of her classes and finally dragged herself up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Once there, she collapsed on a couch and buried her face in her hands. She'd been late for the class after Magical Healing, but since she'd never been late before, the professor had let it go. She'd hidden in the library during lunch, then made her way to her afternoon classes, sticking close to her classmates and keeping a terrified eye out for Malfoy. She hadn't seen him, though. She wondered if he had, after all, carried himself down to the hospital wing. His injuries would certainly cause Madame Pomfrey to ask embarrassing questions and she figured he would do as she had: heal himself. Which would be difficult, as she'd broken his wand arm. Shaky and frightened, she had forced herself to act normal in her classes, which hadn't been easy with Ariel clucking about her like a broody hen. Ginny had made it, but had needed to run to the bathroom twice more, dry heaving over the toilet since she'd already emptied her stomach. She had finally been able to ditch Ariel and her worried questions by ducking out from their regular study session in the library.  
  
The thought of moving another inch, even to go lay on her bed, caused Ginny to shudder. Her face was completely healed, but her throat still burned and she was sure she had a severely sprained or strained shoulder. The internal damage Malfoy had done her, though only deep bruising and a sprain were much harder to heal than surface injuries. Ginny didn't want to think right now, but couldn't help it. Every time she thought about what had happened, she began to shake all over. She was scared to face Malfoy, scared of what he would do if he ever caught her alone again. The next several months stretched out bleakly before her. Months of dodging, looking over her shoulder, avoiding dark passageways. And it would be nearly impossible to avoid him all the time. Her only hope was to tell someone. But who could she tell? She'd already healed the most obvious injuries, and was sure that Malfoy had, too. Professor McGonagall might believe her, but she would want proof and her proof was gone. Telling Professor Snape was out of the question. He would either accuse her of lying, or would think she deserved what she'd gotten. She could always tell Hermione, who was currently Head Girl, but Hermione was dating Ron and would certainly tell him. Then he would kill Malfoy and get sent to prison for life. What could she do? Finally, exhausted, Ginny fell asleep on the couch.  
  
"Ginny, hey, Gin! Wake up! You've been sleeping for ever!"  
  
Ginny groggily opened her eyes. "Is it morning already?" she mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Ginny, it's almost dinner time!" Ariel was standing over Ginny with her hands on her hips, looking worried. She finally reached over and grabbed Ginny's shoulder to shake her. Ginny bolted up, knocking her friend onto her bottom. Ariel was about to snap at Ginny until she saw the look of stark terror on her best friend's pale face. She scrambled up and put a hand on Ginny's arm.  
  
"Ginny, what's wrong? You look terrible! Did something happen?"  
  
Ginny was breathing hard. She had thought, for one horrid moment, that Malfoy had somehow gotten into the Common Room and was attacking her again. She glanced around and saw several younger students looking at them curiously. Ginny let out a shaky breath and gave Ariel a weak smile.  
  
"Sorry, Ari, I guess I was having a bad dream," she lied.  
  
Ariel frowned at her friend. Ginny was a bad liar. She was lying right now, but Ariel felt it wasn't the time to pursue the matter. Ginny was frightened of something and looked ready to bolt.  
  
"Wow, that must have been some nightmare. It's probably from lack of food. What do you say we wash up and head for dinner?" Ariel was still looking carefully at Ginny, but was trying to act casual.  
  
"I'm, er, not really very hungry," Ginny stammered, then flushed as her stomach gave a loud growl at that moment.  
  
"Yeah, right," laughed Ariel, gently tugging Ginny's arm. "Come on, girl, let's go wash up."  
  
  
  
Ginny had said she wasn't hungry, and the thought of going down to the Great Hall and possibly facing Malfoy had killed any appetite she might have had. But Ariel had cajoled, badgered and dragged her upstairs to freshen up, then down to the Great Hall. The room was packed, as usual, and seemed noisier than normal. This was probably due to the furious holiday plans that were being made. Ginny almost ran to the Gryffindor table and slid into a seat as far from Slytherin as it was possible to get while remaining at her own table. She was facing the Slytherin table, as she couldn't get herself to put her unprotected back to where Malfoy might be sitting. Ariel, as though sensing Ginny's chaotic state of mind, kept up a light stream of conversation, trying to distract her from her troubles. The Great Hall, as usual, was festively decorated with fir trees, candles, lights, and glittery garland. This, and the animated chatter from her fellow Gryffindors filling the table around her helped Ginny to relax. When the staff finally filed in, Ginny was almost feeling normal. By the time the food appeared, Ginny found that she was actually quite hungry.  
  
She'd been very successful in avoiding looking at the Slytherin table, and was almost finished eating when she felt a chill down her spine. The bite of roast beef she had just taken might have turned to sawdust in her mouth from the way she suddenly gagged on it. Taking a large gulp of milk, she swallowed, and then glanced around. She still felt the chill, and an overwhelming sense of malevolence directed toward her. Her eyes turned, against her will, to the Slytherin table. She froze.  
  
Near the middle of the table, Draco Malfoy sat staring at Ginny. She didn't doubt that his concentrated stare had been bent on her for several moments. That was the chill she'd felt. That was the source of the feeling of malice. He saw that he had her attention and smiled. Ginny felt chilled to the core of her soul. It was the smile of a child who pulled the wings off flies and tortured small animals. Malfoy's smile promised pain and suffering. Ginny felt small and weak. She wanted to run and hide, or cry for her mum. Then Malfoy frowned. But Ginny was still caught in his stare. She felt as though she might pass out when Ariel jostled her, causing her to break eye contact with Malfoy. Like someone coming out of a trance, Ginny started, blinked, then shook her head. She looked at Ariel, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Earth to Ginny," Ariel said, coining a popular Muggle phrase. "Are you all right, Gin?"  
  
Ginny flushed at the concerned look on Ariel's face. "I'm s-s-sorry, Ari," she stammered, her heart still pounding. "I was just thinking of something."  
  
Ariel placed a hand on Ginny's arm. "I'll just bet," she said in a worried voice. "That's it, Virginia! When we get back upstairs, you're going to tell me what is going on."  
  
Ginny sighed. She knew that Ariel only called her 'Virginia' when she was seriously upset. She also knew that Ari would stick to her like a leech to make sure Ginny didn't duck her. She hung her head and nodded slowly.  
  
"All right, Ariel. But you're going to wish you hadn't asked."  
  
An hour later, Ariel really did wish she hadn't asked. Ginny had related the facts about Malfoy's increasingly aggressive behavior toward her. She then, with great difficulty, related the events of earlier in the day. Ariel was understandably horrified and was all for telling Ron immediately.  
  
"No way, Ari. THINK!" Ginny put her hand on Ariel's arm to prevent the girl from jumping up and looking for Ron right away. "What do you think Ron would do, especially if he saw this?"  
  
Ginny loosened her school tie and opened the neck of her blouse. At the base of her throat, just above the collarbone, were two dark bruises, the marks of Malfoy's thumbs.  
  
Ariel looked, then swallowed. She closed her eyes and moaned, "Lord oh lord oh lord!"  
  
She opened her eyes, trying not to dart glances at the evidence of Malfoy's attack. "He'd go berserk," she admitted. "I don't understand, Gin. Malfoy has always been a bastard, but he's never been violent! To do something like this-." She gestured toward Ginny's neck, then lifted both hands helplessly. "He must be insane!" Then she looked seriously at her small friend. "But you do have evidence, so why don't you go to Professor McGonagall?"  
  
Ginny rebuttoned her blouse and said, "I considered it. But I waited too long. I'm sure Malfoy will have an alibi by now, don't you think?"  
  
Ginny wished she hadn't told Ariel, because the girl looked even more alarmed than Ginny herself. But something strange had happened when she was finally got her problems off her chest. She got angry. She was not at fault. She had learned from an early age to steer clear of Malfoy, even before her mother's startling disclosure about Lucius Malfoy. She never went out of her way to provoke him, and often went out of her way to avoid him. In the Healing class, until this day, she had been very careful never to do anything he could take offense at, although he took offense anyway. It just wasn't fair. And it wasn't right! Ginny had diminished her options when she had healed herself and not reported Malfoy right away, but he shouldn't be allowed to get off scott-free! He should be made to pay, and she was quickly coming to the conclusion that she was the one to make him do so!  
  
Ariel had been trying to think of some way to convince Ginny to report Malfoy anyway, but she shook her head when she looked at Ginny's face.  
  
"Oh, no, Ginny. I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't like it!" She jumped from her mattress where both girls had been sitting. Hurrying to her book bag, she extracted a quill, her inkbottle and a piece of parchment. "Look," she said, inking the quill and scratching out a message on the parchment. "I'm owling Mum and Dad right now to tell them you're coming home with me. Send out an owl to your folks and get permission. I want to get you away from here for a while. We'll decide what to do over the holidays."  
  
Ginny watched her best friend with vast affection. She knew Ariel would do just about anything for her, as would she for Ariel. But the beginnings of a plan were forming in Ginny's mind. She was appalled at her thoughts, but she was helpless to stop them. And the more she thought about it, the more right her idea seemed. She was not going to leave Hogwarts for Christmas, and if she had anything to do with it, Malfoy would not be leaving either! Climbing down more slowly from the mattress than Ariel had, Ginny walked over to her and wrapped her arms around the taller girl. She gave her a brief hug, then stepped back and took the piece of parchment from Ariel's hand.  
  
"I know you're trying to help, Ari, but I'm not leaving. I have a plan, and I'm not going to tell you, so don't bother asking. But I also refuse to cower from Malfoy for the rest of my days. Someone should have beaten the crap out of him years ago. Instead, he thinks he can get away with anything! Well, not any more!"  
  
Ginny cut Ariel a look from the side of her eyes, then warned, "And don't tell Ron or Hermione! I'm taking care of this myself. If I don't, I'll feel like a coward for the rest of my life! And that means Malfoy will have won. Don't you see, Ari," she said beseechingly. "When Malfoy cornered me, I didn't even put up a fight! I was so petrified that I nearly let him choke me before I defended myself. I have to do this. Just to prove that I can take care of myself! Please?"  
  
Ariel looked down into Ginny's pale, drawn face. She knew that there was no way to talk her out of whatever she was going to do. She also knew that if she went behind Ginny's back to Ron or Hermione or even a teacher, Ginny mightn't ever forgive her. She loved Ginny like a sister, and didn't want to lose that. But she was worried. When Draco Malfoy was involved, nothing was certain. She was sure Malfoy was extremely dangerous, especially after hearing what had happened today. Ariel wrung her hands and tried to think of a way out of this tangle. A compromise! That was the answer!  
  
"All right, Ginny, I won't tell, but on one condition!" Ariel told her firmly.  
  
"What condition," Ginny asked cautiously. She was willing to agree to almost anything so Ariel would not interfere.  
  
"You must owl me every day! No exceptions! The first owl you send me will explain your plan, and the first time I don't get an owl, I will write to Ron, Professor McGonagall, and the headmaster, telling them everything. That way, at least you'll have backup in case something goes wrong. But as long as I know you're all right, I'll keep the secret! Right?"  
  
Ginny considered. If she actually told Ariel what she had planned, the girl might tell anyway. But she had little choice. "Agreed," she said, nodding.  
  
Ariel didn't look happy, but she looked relieved. Then she asked quickly, "You're not planning to really hurt him, are you? Not that the son of a bitch doesn't deserve it, but I don't want you expelled or locked up or something."  
  
"I'm not certain, yet," Ginny said slowly. "But if I have to hurt him to make him leave me and others alone, it's worth it!"  
  
"Oh, God, Ginny, I don't think you're doing the right thing. You should let the teachers handle it."  
  
"So his father can just buy Malfoy's way out of trouble again? No way. But I promise I'll be careful, all right, Ari?"  
  
Ariel sighed unhappily. "I suppose it will have to be."  
  
Ginny had tossed and turned all night, trying to work out the details of the rough plan she'd formed. The pain in her shoulder had settled into a dull, constant ache which only added to her restlessness. She tried to remember everything Fred and George had ever mentioned about the castle's hidden doors, chambers and tunnels. She wished she could ask them, but there wasn't time. She would have a lot to do between Healing and the time the students boarded the train to go home on holiday. She finally came up with what she thought might be a workable arrangement, spent more time refining the details and finally fell into an exhausted sleep near dawn. It seemed she'd barely slept when the clock woke her. Ginny pulled the blanket over her head and started drifting off again when she remembered what she planned. She sat bolt upright, adrenalin pumping through her veins, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. Ginny jumped from the bed, grimacing against the ache in her shoulder. She dragged on her dressing gown and rushed to the bathroom to wash up. She was in and out before most of the other girls were out of bed. She dressed hurriedly, then started rummaging in her trunk. Ariel was just returning from the bathroom when Ginny brushed past her, a large cloth bag slung over her good shoulder, packed as tightly as any Muggle Santa's gift bag. Ariel dropped her toilet items on her bed and hurried to catch up with Ginny.  
  
"Where are you off to, so early?" she asked, pacing the tiny redhead toward the stairs.  
  
"Just some things to take care of for--uh, you know." Ginny refused to meet Ariel's eye.  
  
"Ginny," Ariel put her hand on the smaller girl's arm and stopped her. "Please reconsider. I'll-I'll help you when I get back, all right? Then at least I won't get an ulcer worrying about you!"  
  
Ginny looked at the strong brown hand on her arm, then up to her friend's concerned face. She gave her a weak smile. "I know you would, Ari, and I love you for that! Honest. But I'm not going to let you get into trouble for me. I'll stick to our arrangement, but please don't try to stop me."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Ginny turned on her heel and hurried downstairs and out of the Common Room.  
  
Ginny missed breakfast, but would probably not have been able to choke anything down anyway. Ariel kept darting concerned looks at her throughout their first two classes, and tried once more to talk Ginny into coming home with her before they parted for third period. Ginny listened grimly, and told Ariel once more not to interfere. Squaring her shoulders, Ginny gave Ariel a brief, 'see you later', and headed for Magical Healing.  
  
Because she was delayed trying to reassure Ariel, Ginny got to class after most of the Slytherins. Her courage nearly failed her when she saw Malfoy standing just outside the classroom, chatting with his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. He was facing her and the look of malicious delight on his face when he saw her made Ginny shiver. Noticing the look, Crabbe turned to look at her, too. But he quickly turned back to Malfoy. Then, incredibly, he stepped directly in front of Malfoy and blocked his path to the classroom door. Goyle also turned toward Ginny and gave her a quick, almost imperceptible nod toward the door. She was sure this was some sort of trap, but she slipped behind Crabbe and into the classroom without any problem. She couldn't believe it! The goon squad had actually helped her? She was hurrying to her desk when she heard Malfoy berating the two.  
  
"Stupid dolt! What the hell did you think you were doing?"  
  
Ginny heard a dull thud and turned to see Malfoy pinned against the door, Crabbe holding him there by the front of his robes.  
  
"Just let it go, right?" was all Ginny heard. She couldn't believe that Crabbe or Goyle, despite being twice as wide as Malfoy, were actually standing up to him. Malfoy couldn't seem to believe it either, from the look on his face. He glared at Crabbe and grabbed one of the large wrists. While Ginny watched, Malfoy twisted the wrist, straining against the hold of the larger boy. She was shocked when she saw Crabbe wincing in pain and finally letting Malfoy loose. Crabbe snatched his wrist away and hugged it to his chest. Malfoy looked ready to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Ginny turned away and sat quickly, not wanting Malfoy to see that she had witnessed what had just happened. Suddenly, she got angry with herself. Why should she care if she saw Malfoy get what he deserved? She was ready to dish out some justice, herself, wasn't she? She turned back to see Malfoy approaching, looking darkly at her. As he passed close behind her, she felt his fingers graze her neck and she froze. He stood there for only a few seconds, but long enough for Ginny to feel him wrap one of her curls around a finger.  
  
"Remember, it's not over yet, little weasel," he whispered quietly, giving the curl a small, almost playful tug. Medic Timmons entered the room and Malfoy released her hair. He slipped into his chair and dropped his book bag on the floor.  
  
Medic Timmons began passing out what looked like a puzzle or word find of some sort.  
  
"Happy Christmas," he told them brightly. "First one finished gets an extra ten points toward his or her grade. And everyone who finishes by the end of class gets an extra five points. Starting NOW!"  
  
Ginny looked down. It was a crossword puzzle of sorts. There were no clues, only a list of words. These types of puzzles were rather difficult, but Ginny welcomed the distraction. Her stomach was in knots and she still questioned whether she would be able to carry through her plan. She watched as the students around her bent over their tasks. Taking out a quill and inkbottle, Ginny found the space for the longest word. It was easy: leukocytopenia. The only fourteen letter word on the page. The rest wouldn't be so easy, but at least the time would pass more quickly. She looked for the next word, and lost track of time.  
  
"Ten minutes!" Medic Timmons called.  
  
Ginny jumped. Only ten minutes left? She looked at her paper. Almost done. She just had three more words and those would be easy. She quickly scratched the letters into the boxes, then stood.  
  
"I'm d-," she started, when she was interrupted.  
  
"Finished, sir," another voice said. Malfoy, of course.  
  
"Splendid," the instructor said. "Since it's a tie, ten points to both of you! Well done, Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. Now please read quietly until everyone else is done."  
  
Ginny sat and waited until she heard Malfoy take a book from his bag. She glanced at her watch. If she didn't act soon, she might as well go with Ariel. Class would be dismissed in six minutes!  
  
Ginny put her quill and inkbottle away, wincing occasionally at the shafts of pain still affecting her shoulder. She took a book out and flipped through the pages for another minute or two. Finally, with four minutes left, she rose and approached the medi-wizard's desk.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," she said, trying to sound embarrassed. "I know there are only a few minutes, but could I be excused early? I really have to, uh, you know, go!"  
  
The medi-wizard looked consideringly at her, then glanced briefly at Malfoy. He gave her a kind smile. "Go ahead, Miss Weasley. And Happy Christmas."  
  
"Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it!" Ginny turned, elated, back to her desk.  
  
Careful of her bad arm, Ginny stuffed her unused textbook back into her bag. She glanced around the room and saw Goyle trying to catch her eye. He looked at his watch, then back at her. Then he made 'hurry up' motions with his hands. Good grief, Ginny thought. She didn't know what had happened between Malfoy and his henchmen, but they seemed determined to be nice to her. She frowned slightly, even as she rose. This might make it difficult for her to carry out her plan. She carefully looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Time to go. She cast Malfoy what she hoped was a whipped, frightened look, but almost frowned again. He was looking at her, but with speculation, not his usual sneering contempt.  
  
"Miss Weasley? Wasn't there something you needed to do?"  
  
Medic Timmons' voice cut through her thoughts. She headed toward the door, nodding to him.  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, and Happy Christmas!"  
  
Ginny was out the door and hurrying toward the dark passageway Malfoy had ambushed her in the previous day. She slipped up the passage, hiding in the shadows. If her guess were correct, Malfoy would be hot on her heels as soon as class was dismissed, trying to catch her before she made it to the more inhabited areas of the castle. She pulled out her wand and waited, praying that Crabbe and Goyle would not interfere. Fate seemed to be on her side. A few moments later she heard a single set of footsteps coming quickly down the hallway. Ginny shrank back against the wall and waited again. Malfoy walked right past the arched opening, seeming intent on finding her. Ginny stole back up the passage and stepped behind Malfoy's retreating form. She waited until he was alongside the drinking fountain toward the end of the corridor. She started walking quietly toward him.  
  
"Malfoy!" she whispered loudly, wand tightly clutched in her hand.  
  
Malfoy spun, surprised. When he saw the wand in her hand, his look of comic surprise turned to amusement.  
  
"Put it down, little weasel," he said softly, approaching her and holding out his hand. He was using the low, caressing voice he'd used yesterday, just before he tried to strangle her. "You know you're not going to use it." They were only a few steps apart when Ginny gathered her courage. Now or never, she thought, grimacing as she aimed the wand.  
  
"Stupefy!" she shouted. 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  
Ginny watched, fascinated, as Malfoy crumpled slowly to the ground at her feet. His face still wore the mildly surprise expression it had when she had shouted her spell. She cringed as his head thudded against the cold tile floor, but she didn't move. Her cry of 'stupefy' was much louder than she'd intended and her nerves were jangling now that she'd taken the first step. Anxious that someone might have heard her, she listened carefully, but didn't hear anyone approaching. She decided she had better get on with it. Because of her training, she could have conjured a litter and floated Malfoy to her destination, but she didn't want to take the time.  
  
She quietly murmured a different spell and watched in horrified fascination as Malfoy's body floated toward the ceiling. Ginny was almost unnerved at the way his head lolled and his limbs and book bag dangled away from his body. A tiny stream of dark fluid dripped from his bag. He must have broken his bottle of ink. She would have to clean up the ink later. Ginny switched the wand to her uninjured hand and brought Malfoy's body back down, to about three feet off the ground. She used tight, controlled movements to float him back to the drinking fountain. There was a small door next to the fountain, barely noticeable. It had the same sort of spell on it that the Leaky Cauldron had. You would never notice it unless you were actually looking for it. She had missed it herself for the last three and a half months, until she remembered it was there. The door had no doorknob, but tapping the wooden panel, she said, "Ajar!" The door opened quietly outward. She maneuvered Malfoy into the chamber beyond and was just entering herself when she heard shuffling footsteps coming down the corridor. She slipped inside and pulled the door closed, using the doorknob attached to the inside.  
  
Allowing Malfoy's body to drop with a thud to the floor, Ginny said, "Lumos." Weak light spilled from the tip of her wand. She went to the wall sconces set about the small chamber she had entered and lit them. The light from the several torches revealed a room about twelve feet by twelve feet. A cell was formed at the back of the room by a wall of iron bars, tightly spaced, running from one end of the chamber to the other. The cell was only about five feet in depth, but large enough for one arrogant, murderous seventh year. There were chains on the walls, but Ginny didn't plan on using those. She 'lifted' Malfoy again, floated him through the barred door and dropped him onto the floor again. Fortunately for him, this time his head landed on a thin wool blanket that had been folded and placed in the center of the cell. Ginny approached Malfoy cautiously, ready to jump away if he showed any signs of rousing from the spell. She clumsily unfastened his robe and removed it, the pain in her shoulder making her move more slowly than she had expected. Checking the pockets, she was relieved to find his wand. But, being Malfoy, there was no saying what other nasty items he might find amusing to carry about. Grimacing, she patted at his trouser pockets, then, biting her lip, she dug into first one, then the other. Besides a wicked looking pocket knife, Malfoy had a spare wand, a Sneak-o-scope (obviously broken, since it hadn't detected Ginny sneaking up behind him), a pouch with some awful smelling powder, and, incredibly, what looked like one of Ginny's old hair ribbons that she had lost ages ago. What on earth would Malfoy be doing with one of her hair ribbons? Had he planned to use it for some horrid spell?  
  
Suffering from extreme paranoia, Ginny did what the police on Hermione's television called a 'pat-down'. She ran her hands over his arms and chest, checking for suspicious bulges that might indicate weapons. Then she moved to his thighs and calves. Thank heavens there was nothing. Ginny frowned. She remembered the way Malfoy had turned Crabbe's wrist and freed himself from the more muscular boy. But even the very brief and embarrassed contact she'd had with his body told her that Malfoy was painfully thin, almost gaunt. The muscles he did have must be well conditioned, she thought. If he ever got her in his grasp again, she would probably be done for. There was just no way she could hope to match his strength. Shaking her head at such unproductive thoughts, she decided she had just better stay out of reach. Then Ginny took his book bag, the robe and the contents of his pockets and left the cell. She closed the door and locked it securely, first with spells, then with the rusty old lock on the door. Pocketing the equally rusty old key, she figured she would just leave him for now. He would probably wake from the stupefy spell on his own, but, if not, she would wake him after dinner. Ginny shivered slightly as she looked around the small room. It was an inner chamber, but it was still very cold. She glanced guiltily at Malfoy's thin form sprawled on the cold floor. Sighing, she moved to the hearth at the far end of the room. It was about five feet wide and ended before the bars began. She started a fire, keeping it fairly small. It would quickly warm a small chamber like this, especially as there were no windows and only one door. Ginny took one last look around to make sure everything on her side of the bars was well out of his reach. Then she exited the chamber.  
  
She pushed the door closed and looked down at the small trail of ink leading directly to the hidden chamber. Luckily, whoever had just passed hadn't stepped in it. She waved her wand and cleaned it away quickly. She was just finishing when she heard footsteps approaching again, but from the opposite direction. Crabbe and Goyle whipped around the corner at almost a trot and nearly ran Ginny down. It was almost comical, the way the large boys lumbered to a stop just shy of Ginny's toes. Ginny looked up at them, nervously wondering what they were doing there. Were they looking for Malfoy?  
  
Crabbe looked Ginny up and down, and gave Ginny a twist of his lips that looked more like a leer than a smile. "You're all right, then? Malfoy didn't catch you?"  
  
Goyle heaved what sounded like a sigh of relief and looked at Crabbe. "Thought it was a wash," he murmured quietly. "But she don't seem hurt."  
  
Crabbe slammed a large elbow into his partner's gut and said, "Malfoy was in a taking today. Just thought we'd warn you to keep out of his way."  
  
Ginny had barely noticed Goyle's words. She was too amazed at what Crabbe said. It sounded like they had set out to, if not protect her, at least warn her.  
  
"I-er-ducked into that passage up there," she pointed to the dark dead end passageway. "He was in such a hurry he just walked right by!" At least it was the truth, she thought.  
  
Vincent Crabbe, apparently the brains of the operation in Malfoy's absence, scratched his head and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. He looked Ginny up and down again, this time definitely leering at her. "Lost your book bag, did you? Fetch it and me and Goyle'll see you to your next class, just in case he comes back."  
  
Ginny gasped. Where was her book bag? She must have left it in her hiding spot. But she might have left it in the cell, locked up with Malfoy. Almost in panic, she said quickly, "That's all right. I'll be fine now. I'll just take the main stairway."  
  
Crabbe shook his head and looked mulishly at her. "We'll go with you."  
  
Ginny knew it was no use arguing. They obviously weren't about to be swayed. "All right," she said in a falsely bright voice. "I'll just collect my bag."  
  
She headed up the corridor to the passageway she'd hidden in. The two large boys followed closely. They were at the archway when Ginny remembered that she had left her books here so she could sneak up on Malfoy more easily. She picked up the bag and returned to her escort.  
  
"Right, then. Lead on." Crabbe motioned Ginny back down the hallway. Ginny tried to think of something to say to these two boys. They didn't seem any bit more friendly or personable than they had before, but she thought she should at least make an effort. The problem was that before today she didn't think she'd heard them utter more than a dozen words each. What did one say to her enemy's best friends?  
  
As they came off the stairs, Ginny saw some students ahead. She turned and thanked both Crabbe and Goyle for the escort. She was about to go when Crabbe stopped her.  
  
"Keep out of his way for a while," he said slowly. "Dunno what happened, but it must have been something. He was out for blood. Just keep away from him 'til he leaves tonight and he should be fine when he gets back."  
  
Ginny had no idea why they were helping her, but on impulse she reached out and squeezed Crabbe's hand. "Thanks again," she whispered, then turned and hurried toward her class. She didn't notice the sly look that passed between the two Slytherins.  
  
  
  
Ariel had been watching for Ginny. The bell was about to ring and the tiny redhead was nowhere in sight. Then, to her amazement, Ariel saw Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, almost in flanking positions, escort Ginny down the back stairway toward her class. Ginny turned to them and said something, then reached out and squeezed Crabbe's large paw. Ariel shook her head. Amazing! Ginny hurried up to her friend with a smile on her lips.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that!" Ariel demanded, shocked into what she would call unladylike language.  
  
Ginny's smile dimmed slightly as she looked back to where the large boys were hurrying back up the stairway.  
  
"I honestly don't know, Ari. Believe it or not, they were bent on protecting me from Malfoy!"  
  
"Well, you know you have a lot of explaining to do at lunch, then, right? I want to hear all about it!" Ariel linked her arm with Ginny's and the girls slipped into class as the bell rang.  
  
Ginny had agreed to spend ten minutes at lunch telling Ariel about Crabbe and Goyle's defense of herself, but that would be all. She still had some things to arrange. She pocketed several chunks of kidney from her meat pie, along with a roll and an apple. She saw Crabbe and Goyle sitting together and almost nodded at them. But, they were ignoring her, as though they had not directly defied their ringleader. She shook her head. She still didn't understand why they'd done it, but she was glad they hadn't made an issue of it.  
  
They did look a bit lost without Malfoy sitting between them. This was the hardest part of the plan so far. None of the Slytherins seemed to notice that Malfoy was missing, not even Crabbe or Goyle. And he had missed one class already. Surely someone would raise the alarm? But if the Slytherins did notice, they didn't seem to care. Ginny tried to chat casually with Ariel, but was anxious to put the next part of her plan in place. She finally pushed her plate away and got to her feet, Ariel right beside her.  
  
"The library should be pretty empty," the taller girl said.  
  
Ginny nodded and they left the Great Hall. They ensconced themselves in comfortable chairs in the back of the library and Ariel leaned toward Ginny.  
  
"All right, now tell me about the Goon Squad!" she demanded.  
  
So Ginny told them about Crabbe's blocking maneuver, Goyle's motions for her to hurry out of class and their insistence that they escort her. Ariel asked if she knew why, but Ginny was frankly bewildered.  
  
"I suppose they might be protecting him from landing in Azkaban? They said he was out for blood right now," Ginny mused. Where would Crabbe and Goyle be without Malfoy to lead them? Better off, she answered herself.  
  
"Well, they say miracles do happen this time of year, you know," Ariel commented. "So what's next?"  
  
"I'll tell you in my owl tomorrow, Ari. But now I have to take care of some things." Ginny stood, but Ariel grabbed her arm.  
  
"Just be careful, okay?"  
  
Ginny smiled. "As careful as I can," she promised.  
  
  
  
After leaving the library, Ginny hurried up the stairs to the Medical Healing wing. It was still deserted and would be for another half hour or so. Ginny snuck into the hidden chamber and was relieved to see that Malfoy was still out. She was also relieved that the fire had warmed the room considerably. Glancing at Malfoy again, she wondered what she had gotten herself into. How could she have even come this far? She was a Gryffindor, one of the good guys. Had her experience with Tom Riddle's diary left some mark of evil on her soul? She shook her head. No, she was just getting justice! The difference between her and Malfoy was that she did this with extreme guilt. She would feel guilty for this, as mild as her actions were, so far, for years. Malfoy would probably enjoy keeping someone captive. He'd probably be just like his father, enjoying the fear and pain he brought to others. She glared at the inert form, then turned to his book bag. She opened it and rummaged through the books. There was a quantity of ink all over most of the contents, but some items were spared. She pulled out a sheet of homework that had been returned, graded, to him. Not a bad grade, either, Ginny noted. But she wasn't interested in Malfoy's intellect. She needed a good sample of his penmanship. Further delving into his bag brought forth clean, high quality parchment and a fine quill. Ginny took these to the edge of the hearth and sat. She pulled out her own inkbottle since his had broken. She then studied the handwriting carefully. It was neat, but with strong, bold strokes. He had been taught very well and his hand would be difficult to forge. Using one of her books for a flat surface, Ginny pulled some parchment from her own bag and practiced, relieved that her shoulder injury didn't affect her ability to write. She used both sides of two sheets before she was satisfied with her efforts. Then she drew one of Malfoy's sheets onto her lap. She thought carefully, then began.  
  
Even with practice, Ginny wasted four sheets before she had what she considered a believable letter. She threw the others, including her practice sheets, into the fire, carefully folded the remaining letter, and put the supplies away. She lowered the flames a bit, then pulled a small cup from her bag. She'd snuck it from the Great Hall and now went to the water fountain outside the door and filled it. She left it just inside the bars and left the room, again checking that nothing but the cup was within Malfoy's reach.  
  
Ginny ran up to the owlery looking for Malfoy's owl. The beautiful creature was as proud and standoffish as her master, but was extremely susceptible to flattery. With croons and soft words, Ginny enticed her to come down from her perch. Ginny offered her the food she'd brought from the Great Hall, still caressing and crooning at the lovely owl. When most of the food was gone, Ginny held up the letter. The owl seemed to examine it closely, then looked up at Ginny, head tilted to the side.  
  
"I know, love, you're wondering where your master is. But this is to go to his parents. Would you take it? If I promise to come feed and groom you for the next week?"  
  
The owl seemed to be seriously considering the question. The intelligent eyes gleamed, and Ginny wondered for a moment if the creature could sense her dishonesty. Then the owl made an affirmative sound and stuck out one claw. Ginny held the letter so the bird could take a grip, and was away in a flurry of wings and feathers. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't been certain on the wording. Who knew if even someone like Malfoy referred to his parents as 'Papa' or 'Mumsy'? Ginny glanced at her watch and yelped. She just had time to get back to her first afternoon class without being late.  
  
That evening, Ginny walked with Ariel to the castle entrance. Ariel was taking only one small bag, but as she was stacking it with the other bags and chests, Ginny glanced around to see if Crabbe or Goyle were about looking for Malfoy. She saw neither of the boys, and breathed a sight of relief. Ariel returned to where she was standing and Ginny hugged her friend tightly, missing her already.  
  
"Now, tell me again why you're all leaving tonight and not tomorrow morning?" Ginny asked, remembering in years past that the train always left on Saturday morning.  
  
"Something about being able to spend an extra day or something like that." Ariel was still worried about Ginny, but was excited to be going on holiday. The horseless carriages were lining up at the foot of the stairs to transport the students to Hogsmeade Station. Ariel turned serious suddenly. "Now don't forget. An owl a day or this gets sent to Professor Mac!" She held up a letter addressed to the transfiguration professor. She pocketed the letter and hugged Ginny. "Take care of yourself, and do be careful!"  
  
Rubeus Hagrid was shouting for everyone to hop it, so the girls made their good byes and Ariel climbed into one of the carriages. When it finally disappeared from sight, Ginny gathered her cloak about her and returned to the castle.  
  
Ron and his best friend Harry were standing at the entry to the Great Hall after having seen Hermione off. "Hurry up, Gin, dinner's almost on!" Ron called, waving his hand for her to run.  
  
Ginny did hurry the last few steps, then fell in beside them. As usual, with so many students gone, three of the tables had been pushed aside and all of the students, regardless of which house they belonged to, were sitting companionably together. Ginny glanced around and was relieved to see that Crabbe and Goyle were on the far end of the table. She sat with Ron and Harry, who immediately began to argue Quidditch. Ginny loved Quidditch, but she couldn't discuss it non-stop, like these two seemed to. Ginny was only listening with half an ear, when she heard Malfoy's name.  
  
"-Malfoy again this year, Harry?" Ron was asking  
  
"I don't know. He seems to be playing better this year. More patient. That's always been his problem." Harry seemed to consider this, then added, "Well, that and cheating!"  
  
The boys laughed. Ginny didn't think it was funny. Harry was right. Malfoy was a cheater. Unfortunately, he did seem to be playing better this year. His team had flattened Ravenclaw and he'd gotten the Snitch very quickly. Hufflepuff was tough this year, but Slytherin had beaten them too. She enjoyed watching the teams flying, even when she was up there with them. She really thought Harry might be in trouble this year. Shrugging, Ginny decided not to worry about it until the game, which wasn't for another month. At the moment she had much more important things to worry about. The food finally appeared and the small gathering of students and teachers made merry.  
  
"Where are you off to now, Gin," Ron asked later, lolling back in a soft chair in the Gryffindor Common Room. He didn't appear extremely interested, just observing the forms. He was merely keeping a very negligent eye out for his little sister. Ginny hefted her book bag on her shoulder, stifling her wince, and decided that she didn't mind today. It gave her freedom to do what she needed to.  
  
"I thought I'd go to the library and study ahead for Healing. Want to keep those Slytherins on their toes!" That one line was guaranteed to keep Ron off her back. He was delighted that his sister was showing up those arrogant Slytherins.  
  
He smiled. "Well done, sis. Keep up the good work!"  
  
Harry gave her a speculative look. "Just going to study ahead, are you? Sure you're not going to meet some fellow?"  
  
Ron turned back, his eyes narrowed. "What fellow? And why am I always the last one to know? Who is he, Gin?"  
  
Ginny wanted to slap Harry. He didn't want her, had never been interested in her. She had finally gotten over her schoolgirl crush in her fourth year, realizing that he never would be interested in her as anything other than a surrogate little sister. But why did he have to make comments like that? He was always doing it. It was funny when Hermione or Ariel teased her, but Harry just sounded like he was prying.  
  
Ginny clicked her tongue and lifted her nose. "IF I were meeting some fellow, it would be my business, not yours, Ron. And especially not yours, Harry," she said firmly. "Besides, you don't hear me asking about when you sneak off with Hermione, right Ron?"  
  
Ron's ears turned pink, but he had the decency to smile sheepishly. Ginny turned to Harry. "And I see no one bothers to question you about where you disappear to on Hogsmeade weekends when a certain former Ravenclaw Seeker happens to be in town, right?"  
  
Harry also flushed, but snapped, "That's because it's no one else's business!"  
  
"Precisely," Ginny said with a shark-like grin as she exited the Common Room.  
  
She hurried back up to the chamber where Malfoy was locked up. She was very careful to stop and listen every so often. The last thing she needed or wanted was for Argus Filch or his detestable cat Mrs. Norris to catch her. She wondered briefly if the cat were somehow magical. It seemed to be living forever! She rounded the last corner and moved to the unnoticed door beside the drinking fountain. She lifted her wand but paused for a moment. A vague feeling of unease settled on her. Ginny looked both ways, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging off the feeling, she murmured, "Ajar" and stood back as the door popped open. Ginny entered the chamber and pulled the door closed, then turned to look at Malfoy. Her heart jumped to her throat.  
  
Malfoy's body was lying near the door of the cell, but there was blood all over him! His white school shirt was stained and ripped, his tie was loosened, and there was a long streak of blood across his neck. Ginny rushed forward, removing the locking spells from the door and trying to pull the key from her pocket. The feeling of apprehension engulfed her again, this time almost overwhelming her. She stopped suddenly and looked at Malfoy more closely. Her eyes widened, and she felt certain this was a trap. She took two hasty steps backward; arms wind-milling as she almost lost her balance. She was still almost too late. Malfoy leaped to his feet and thrust his arms through the bars, trying to catch hold of Ginny's robes. The fingers of his left hand brushed briefly against the material of her sleeve, but she pulled away quickly. The unbelievable speed with which he'd gone from flat on the floor to almost grabbing her had her backing up to the opposite wall.  
  
She shivered when she looked at him, his blood streaked face pressed against the bars, his hands gripping them tightly. It was like a horrid nightmare. Ginny finally caught her breath and gathered her wits. She absently kneaded her shoulder to ease the pain that had flared up again. Then she approached the bars, careful to stay well out of Malfoy's reach.  
  
"Well, I see you're awake," Ginny said more calmly than she felt.  
  
She was surprised to see him grin. It was a twisted sort of grin, but it seemed to reflect some sense of humor.  
  
"I was close, little weasel, very close," he said in a low, sneering voice. "Do you really think you'll get away with this?"  
  
Ginny patiently placed all the locking spells back on the door, then went to the hearth and sat, shrugging off her bag and rolling the right shoulder, which was now throbbing again.  
  
"I seem to have done well enough so far," she informed him. "You missed half your classes today and no one seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn't care?"  
  
The sneer on his face turned into a scowl. "No? You don't think so? Well, I see one problem with your 'plan', if you actually have a plan. My father is expecting me home on the train for the holidays. What do you think he'll do when I don't arrive?"  
  
It was Ginny's turn to grin. Malfoy didn't seem to like the grin since he scowled more fiercely. Pulling a quill and parchment from her bag, she casually began to write.  
  
"Well, little weasel? What are you going to do when the headmaster calls for a search of the castle? I think there'll be roast weasel for dinner tomorrow!"  
  
He laughed harshly at his own joke. Ginny still ignored him.  
  
Ginny finally finished what she was doing and lifted the parchment. "What do you think, Malfoy? I think it catches the essence of you!" Then she read aloud.  
  
"Dear Father,  
  
Since I know you and Mother think I'm a weak little ferret and would rather not suffer my presence at this festive time of year, I have decided to jump into the lake and drown myself, thereby relieving you from the burden of my company.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Draco"  
  
Ginny approached the bars again and carefully extended her arm. Malfoy glared at her as he snatched the sheet from her hand. He looked it over, back and front. He looked closely at her, and then back at the parchment. Glaring at it he demanded, "What the hell is this, Weasley? I never wrote this!"  
  
"Of course not, you git. Didn't you see me just write it? But even you have to admit it's a very nice forgery." Ginny smiled at him, enjoying herself immensely. He was still glaring at the note she'd written, the glare fading into a look of bewilderment. "But naturally I said something much more diplomatic to your father, though I doubt he'd notice the difference." She added the last spitefully.  
  
Malfoy glanced up from the parchment at the last. "Do you mean you sent a letter to my father?" he asked, brightening. "You do realize he'll be suspicious immediately he sees it wasn't delivered by Archimedes." Malfoy actually smiled.  
  
"Archimedes!?" Ginny asked, astounded. "You named that lovely creature 'Archimedes'?" She looked at Malfoy as though he'd lost his mind.  
  
Malfoy's smile faded. "What the hell do you care what I call my owl, Weasley? What would you have named her, Fluffy or some other sappy, stupid little-girl name?"  
  
"Never mind, Malfoy. Her name doesn't matter." She shrugged matter-of- factly. "She knows she's a beauty, doesn't she? Now, what did you do to yourself to cause so much bleeding? Do I need to put you out of your misery? You know, they destroy horses that break their legs. Is your leg broken? Or maybe just your wrist?"  
  
Malfoy's sudden dark look made Ginny quail on the inside. She was very glad of the bars between them. Obviously, reminding him of his earlier injuries was a good way to annoy him. Outwardly, though, she still looked calm and composed.  
  
"Forget that! What do you know about my owl, little weasel?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. "Are you telling me she actually carried your letter for you?" The scowl disappeared, to be replaced by a speculative look. "Did you bribe my owl?"  
  
Ginny's red cheeks were all the answer he needed.  
  
"I can't believe it, little weasel!" he declared with a mocking smile. "I honestly didn't think you had it in you. You certain weren't what I expected."  
  
"Well, you were wrong, weren't you?" she said defensively. She still felt sick with guilt, but she was committed. "I'm putting you on notice right now, Malfoy. I won't let you push me around any more."  
  
This time he actually laughed. "And just what are you going to do to stop me?" he asked, grinning again.  
  
"Well, you didn't think I could defend myself and I did. You didn't think I would actually use my wand on you, but I did. Doesn't that worry you a bit? That you were so wrong?"  
  
"It does make me wonder, little weasel. Maybe you should have been sorted into Slytherin." Ginny shivered when he said that, but he didn't seem to notice. "Now THAT would have been interesting!" he drawled, leaning a shoulder against the bars and crossing his arms. He continued in a mocking voice, "I didn't think good little Gryffindor girls played so dirty. For shame, little weasel. Kicking a man in the balls! And then breaking his arm for good measure. You have a lot to answer for."  
  
"I have a lot to answer for?" Ginny cried, astounded at his nerve. "You started it, Malfoy! I've been trying to keep my head down, trying not to do anything to annoy the great Malfoy! I've been trying to avoid you for years. But that wasn't enough for you, was it? You were the one who couldn't keep your big mouth shut! You had to make a comment where the teacher could hear you! Did you think I was just going to let you get all the points?" She shook her head and turned away, missing the surprised look that crossed his face.  
  
"What did I do to deserve what you did? Huh? Answer that, you filthy--," she broke off suddenly, realizing that no matter what she said, it wouldn't matter to him. He probably wasn't even listening. Ginny stalked over to her bag and began removing some of the food she had saved from dinner. There were rolls, cheeses and fruit. Not roast goose or filet mignon, but it was better than nothing, she figured.  
  
Finally looking at him again, she asked, "Are you hungry, Malfoy? You look like you haven't had a decent meal in months."  
  
"Been peeking, have we, little weasel?" He was sneering at her again, but Ginny ignored the question. She picked up one of the two apples she'd brought and took a large bite out of it. Malfoy glared at her and continued. "Did you enjoy groping me while I was unconscious? Did you like what you found, digging through my pockets  
  
Ginny flushed, but answered heatedly, "Good thing I looked. Otherwise I'd probably have a knife between my shoulder blades right now." She shrugged her shoulders as she said it, trying to ease the ache. "Or maybe you would have used that extra wand to make me your ticket to the Deatheaters! You were perfectly willing to strangle me to death yesterday! After you slapped me silly, of course! So, I'm sure a little killing curse wouldn't bother you."  
  
She chanced a look at his face and stopped. What she could see beneath the blood had gone deathly white. The pale eyes seemed to burn into hers. His hands were fisted around the bars and Ginny could see that he was quivering with suppressed emotion.  
  
"Yesterday," he said in a tightly controlled voice, "I would have stopped. I wouldn't have struck you. I almost did stop before you tried to emasculate me. I hadn't planned to-," he stopped suddenly, then continued, his voice still tight. "Just don't come any nearer right now or I will throttle you, Weasley." He finally released his death grip on the bars and turned his back to her. He leaned against the bars and slid down into a sitting position. He leaned wearily forward, resting his forehead on his knees.  
  
"Don't talk about things you don't understand, little weasel," he said, sounding very tired and, oddly, very old. "Just go away."  
  
Ginny was at a loss. She'd never seen Malfoy act like this. He seemed--, well, lost. She told herself she was delusional. After briefly considering trying to talk to him, she decided it was probably a bad idea. Instead, she pushed the food to the very corner of the hearth, well within his reach. She rummaged through the sack she'd brought up earlier in the day and took out a large pot with a lid. It had started life as a small skin cream pot, but an enlargement spell made it a perfect chamber pot. She moved that nearer the bars as well.  
  
"Uh, there's food, and a, er, pot if you need to, uh, you know," she said, embarrassed.  
  
Malfoy ignored her. Ginny took an extra blanket from the bag, as well as a pillow. She knew it was stupid to worry about his comfort. In fact he would probably take it as a sign of weakness. But it was a balm to Ginny's conscience. She pushed these items nearer the bars, as well. Extinguishing all but one of the torches, Ginny gave Malfoy one last glance, then left quickly.  
  
Ron and Harry were sitting in the comfortable, overstuffed chairs near the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. There was a bright fire crackling on the grate and apparently the young men had had a visit from their house- elf friend, Dobby. There were plates, cups, forks, knives, and what looked like the remains of several pies and cakes. It was obvious that Hermione was gone for the holidays. Otherwise this unauthorized feast would never have been allowed. Ginny automatically glanced around the unusually empty Common Room for Ariel, then remembered her friend was also gone. She sighed, thinking she could really use a friendly shoulder right now.  
  
Ginny started for the stairs to the dormitory, thinking she might write to Ari tonight, when Ron spied her.  
  
"Oy! Ginny! Come on over, help us finish this lot! Then you can tell us all about this new fellow!" he called.  
  
Ginny forced a weak smile but declined and headed upstairs. She wasn't really hungry. The image of Malfoy's blood streaked, pale face and his burning eyes wouldn't leave her mind. 


	5. Chapter Four

Here it is, for better or worse. Chapter four!  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Ginny approached the small door cautiously the following morning. Breakfast had revealed no anxious fathers looking for their good-for- nothing sons. No alarm had been raised. Everything seemed normal. She still felt a tension when she approached. Looking both ways, she opened the door, but paused. She remembered how her stomach had wrenched last night when she saw Malfoy, bloody and still, stretched out on the floor. She didn't doubt he might try something like that again. Cautiously, ducking low, Ginny entered the chamber. The one torch she'd left going had guttered and gone out. The magical fire was still burning, but not very brightly. She couldn't see Malfoy, but that wasn't surprising, given the dark of the chamber. Still being careful, she closed the door, wedging her wand into the crack between the door and sill. She moved quietly a few feet away.  
  
"Lumos," she said softly. The wand emitted a feeble glow. Nothing happened. Ginny looked around and could barely make Malfoy out now. He was standing by the bars, tossing something up and down in his hand.  
  
"Very nice, little weasel," he drawled. "You're instincts are dead on, as usual."  
  
Ginny took that to mean whatever mischief he'd planned was off, at least for now. She retrieved her wand and lighted the torches again. Then she saw what he'd been tossing. It was the water mug she'd left him, but it was missing the handle. Not a deadly missile, but it could be painful. Malfoy looked, too, then gave a hard laugh.  
  
"Not much of a weapon, is it?" he said, putting it back on the floor.  
  
Ginny saw that he was still covered with blood. Of course he was. He didn't exactly have a shower here, did he? But she noticed that some of the blood looked fresh.  
  
"Are you still bleeding Malfoy? Good gods, what did you do to yourself."  
  
Malfoy folded his arms, hiding the dark, wet patch on the left arm of his shirt. "What the hell do you care, Weasley," he asked with a slight shrug. "What do you want, anyway?"  
  
Ginny placed her rather heavily laden bag on the hearth and started pulling out several items. The pain in her shoulder was now mostly gone, thank the gods and good old aspirin. Looking toward the hearth, she saw that he hadn't touched the food or the blanket and pillow. Everything was just where she'd left it. Sighing, she thought he might just expire from malnutrition before she ever had a chance to do anything to him.  
  
Her bag contained food, again, a large jar of water and a small jar of pumpkin juice she'd talked a house elf out of. There was also a large tee shirt, a basin and a washrag. She turned back to him, hands on hips.  
  
"Are you just being a git, or does the sight of your own blood make you squeamish? You haven't eaten anything!"  
  
Malfoy wrapped a hand around one of the bars and gave her a long, insolent look that started at her shiny curls and went down to her feet and back up. Ginny didn't like the gleam in his eye. She braced herself for a nasty remark.  
  
Instead, his voice was soft and smooth. "Oh, I'm hungry, all right, little weasel. But not for food. If you would just step a little closer, I could show you what I want." He held his right arm out toward her coaxingly.  
  
Ginny had steeled herself for an insult, but she hadn't expected the low, persuasive voice he was using. In spite of herself, she felt the impulse to move toward him. She stifled it quickly. Instead, she glanced at his left arm, still curled to his chest. The wet stain had grown. Clicking her tongue, she moved a few steps closer, trying to get a look at his injury.  
  
"Well, I got my answer, Malfoy. You are a git. You're still bleeding."  
  
"Don't worry about it, little weasel," he said impatiently. "It's just a scratch. I won't bleed to death."  
  
"Right, Malfoy, that's why it's still bleeding. Just show me what you did to yourself. If you won't, I'll just stupefy you and see for myself."  
  
"Screw you, Weasley," he snapped.  
  
"You wish, Malfoy. Now let me see!" Ginny lifted her wand threateningly. Malfoy glared at her, crossing his arms again stubbornly.  
  
"You wouldn't dare, Weasley," he said quietly, his tone challenging.  
  
Yes I would, she thought. Then hesitated. Some wicked voice seemed to whisper that he would really hate it if she left him conscious while she treated him, but he couldn't stop her. She saw Malfoy smile smugly, thinking he'd won. She grinned to herself.  
  
"Anesthesio!" she whispered. Malfoy heard the word and threw one hand up, but it was already too late. He had time to stumble back and sit heavily on the floor against the wall before his limbs became slack and nerveless. This spell was similar to the total body bind, because the victim couldn't move his arms or legs. But it left the limbs loose. It was perfect for difficult patients. He could still move his head a bit, and did so now to level a glare at her. Ginny ignored it and unlocked the door. She filled the basin with the water she'd brought, warmed it, then took it, the washcloth, and the tee shirt into the cell with her. If looks were lethal, Ginny would probably be incinerated by now, with the way Malfoy was glaring. She didn't care, though. She didn't want him bleeding to death on her.  
  
"Right, then, Malfoy. I'll be careful," she said in a false bright voice.  
  
Kneeling next to him, she took one of his hands and laid it across her lap. She carefully unbuttoned the cuff, and reached for the other. That done, she pulled the loose tie completely off and worked his top button free. Then she realized she had a problem. She was acutely embarrassed. It wasn't as though she had never been this close to a boy before; she had. She had even indulged in one or two very steamy sessions of kissing and petting. But she had never deliberately undressed someone before. It was- well-rather intimate. Ginny swallowed, her hands poised above the second button. She heard Malfoy chuckle slightly; at least it was the best approximation of a chuckle he could manage with most of his body paralyzed. She glanced at him and saw that he was smirking. He didn't think she could do it either!  
  
Well, she'd show him! She yanked at the second button, then quickly worked her way through the rest of them. She pulled the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, and finally started peeling the shirt away from his torso. It was a bit difficult at first because of the dried blood. It was sticking to his skin in several places. As she moved him about, he began to slump sideways. Ginny cursed under her breath as she scooted around to support his weight against her body. She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The left sleeve did not want to cooperate. It was stuck worse than the other had been. Ginny tugged gently, causing Malfoy to hiss in pain.  
  
"Oh, lord, Malfoy. What did you do to yourself," she whispered as more fresh blood began to stain the sleeve. She pulled the material back slowly, revealing a long, fairly deep cut on his inner arm. She finally worked the wretched shirt away and gasped. The cut was at least six inches long, probably a half inch deep or deeper, and angry red.  
  
Ginny couldn't believe a person could do something like this to himself. She certainly could not. She looked around the cell and saw the handle of the water mug in a far corner, its jagged edge stained with blood. Swallowing, she continued to hold him against her as she reached out to dip the washcloth in the basin. Then she made her voice calm.  
  
"This is going to be uncomfortable, Malfoy. Do you want me to knock you out first?" She looked at his face. He couldn't speak, but his glare seemed to say no way.  
  
Ginny sighed. "I imagine you'd rather I let you alone to die of infection than let me help you. Well, too bad for your pride, Malfoy. There are a lot of things I'd rather be doing, too, so get over it. You're stuck right now." She cleaned the wound none too gently. Once she was satisfied she'd cleaned it thoroughly she fumbled her wand from her pocket and tapped the long cut. The angry red faded and the deep walls of the laceration began to pull together and knit. Ginny glanced at the blood soaked shirt that she had cast aside. She pointed her wand at a portion of the back that appeared not too soiled. A large section was severed from the rest and Ginny pulled it to her. She folded it neatly and laid it over the cut. It would take a few more hours to heal completely, and she wanted no dirt in it. She fixed the dressing in place with a simple spell, then glanced at him again.  
  
"Is that it? No more?" she asked anxiously.  
  
His eyes signaled that was it.  
  
"Thank the gods," she muttered in a low voice. Her shoulder was beginning to ache from supporting his weight against her while reaching around, over and under his torso and arms to undress him and mend the wound. She paused to look at him. His body was still leaning against hers, his back to her chest, but now he had his eyes closed. Despite the blood smeared across his face, he looked very young and pale right now. Without thinking, she dipped the washcloth in the pink water again and wrung it out. She lifted it to his forehead and wiped at the blood there. His eyes snapped open, staring intently into hers. Ginny snatched her hand away. What on earth had made her do that? She moved quickly away and propped him against the wall again.  
  
Then she took the basin and washcloth and left the cell, locking it up and returning the key to her pocket. She cautiously glanced at him again. He was a wreck! She wished she had a camera, because she barely believed it herself. His hair was sticking every which way, dirt and blood mingling to make it spike up. His face looked like a ghastly mask to scare Muggle children with. His tee shirt was caked and stiff with his blood. She noticed again how thin he was. Thinner than she had suspected last night. But his shoulders were broad for all that, and the muscles she could see in his lower arms were well defined. A typical seeker's build, that was what he had. Slim, light, strong and fast. When she realized she'd been staring, she blushed and looked away.  
  
"I'll take the spell off you now, Malfoy, then get you fresh water if you want to wash up. You're a mess!" Quickly she released him from the spell and turned to get more water. She was almost to the door when he spoke.  
  
"Weasley!" he said. There was something compelling in his voice that caused her to turn back. He was now standing again, next to the bars. He still looked a fright but when she met his eyes she found that she couldn't look away. As her heart raced, she decided this was how a rabbit felt when a snake trapped it.  
  
"What is it, Malfoy?" she squeaked out, trying to pull her eyes away. She detested the weakness in her voice.  
  
"Come over here, little weasel," he said quietly. He was staring into her eyes, trying to bend her to his will, it seemed. It almost worked. She took one step toward him, then another, but clumsily, trying to fight the impulse that gripped her. The movement caused the water in the basin to splash out, soaking the front of Ginny's robes. She looked down when she felt the shock of the now-cold water and realized that she had almost walked right into his reach.  
  
Ginny was suddenly afraid. She would have to be very careful not to let him trap her like that again. Without looking at him, she turned again and hurried out of the room. Glancing up and down the corridor, she hurried to the girls' bathroom. There wasn't enough water left in the jug she'd brought, so she rinsed the basin and refilled it. She moved to the bathroom door, but as she reached for the door handle, Ginny froze. There were voices in the corridor! Ginny snatched her hand back and stood as silently as she could, listening.  
  
"Yes, love, what did you hear, my dear?"  
  
Ginny held her breath as she recognized the harsh tones of Argus Filch. He must be talking to his cat, Ginny realized. Mrs. Norris seemed able to detect a derelict student at five hundred paces. It would be no difficult feat for her to track Ginny down in the bathroom. She thought quickly, but couldn't come up with any brilliant schemes to talk her way out of trouble with. She heard Filch's footsteps coming closer, slowing as he approached the bathroom door.  
  
"In the bathroom, my pretty? Good work! We'll get them this time!"  
  
Ginny swallowed hard. She was caught. Filch would want to know what she was doing up here with a basin, when the entire floor was supposed to be deserted. She squared her shoulders and prepared for the worst when she heard a door open along the hallway. As she listened, she heard the voice of Medic Timmons.  
  
"Mr. Filch! What brings you up here?" the medic asked pleasantly.  
  
"Medic! You're here?" Ginny almost laughed as she pictured the pained expression that was probably crossing her teacher's face at such an obvious question. But his voice was still pleasant when he answered.  
  
"As you see. I forgot some work I was going to take on holiday with me. I'll be out of your hair in a moment." Ginny heard the sound of a door closing and a key in the lock.  
  
Filch was speaking to the medic as he locked up his classroom. "Tell me, sir, did you see or hear any students up here? Mrs. Norris was on the trail of someone, but it might have been you."  
  
The medic paused for a moment. He must have heard her when she was washing up!  
  
"No, I can't say I have. I've been up here for about fifteen minutes and I didn't see or hear anyone." How could he not have heard her, she wondered. He was in the next room!  
  
Now Filch paused. Finally he said, "Right, then. Musta been you we were following. Sorry to bother you."  
  
"No bother at all, Mr. Filch. Oh, damn, forgot a book. Did you want to wait?"  
  
"No, I'll be off. Just make sure you lock up."  
  
Ginny heard Filch retreat back the way he came.  
  
"Well, happy holidays to you too, you old prune!" the medic muttered under his breath as he reopened his door. Now that she was listening, Ginny heard him rummage around his desk, then close and lock the door again. He passed the bathroom door humming and Ginny opened the door a crack. She had to choke back a laugh. The reason he hadn't heard her was clamped around his head. It was one of the few forms of Muggle technology that worked at Hogwarts: a small, battery operated radio-headphone set.  
  
When the medic was well away Ginny finally hurried back to the hidden cell. She didn't bother with caution this time. She just wanted to get out of the corridor. Besides, whatever Malfoy could have planned for her at this moment couldn't possibly be as bad as being caught having kidnapped and imprisoned another student, regardless of her provocation. She closed the door quickly behind her, breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
"The drowned weasel look is good on you, Weasley," Malfoy sneered from his place by the bars.  
  
Ginny stiffened at his voice. In her rush, Ginny had spilled some of the basin's contents over the front of her robe. The thin material was clinging to her front. Sparing Malfoy barely a glance, she placed the basin on the hearth and pulled off her sodden robe. She laid the garment out to dry by the fire and plucked at her lightweight knit jumper. It was also quite damp and uncomfortable, so she pulled it over her head, leaving her with only a thin turtleneck blouse. As she laid the jumper beside the robe, Ginny felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She whirled around, heart suddenly pounding, fully expecting that Malfoy had somehow escaped and was standing right behind her.  
  
Malfoy was still where he'd been when she returned; standing near the door of the cell, behind the bars. Even through the smeared, dried blood, she could see that he was smirking. He lifted a brow and gestured toward her.  
  
"Do continue, little weasel," he said softly, almost caressingly. "I'm dying to see what comes next; the blouse or the skirt?"  
  
"Pervert!" Ginny snapped at him, flushing hotly. Calm down, she told herself, turning her back on him. He's just trying to get a rise out of you! Well, he was doing a fabulous job of it, too. She had almost succeeded in calming herself when she heard his chuckle.  
  
"Since when is it perverted to want to watch an attractive girl undress?" he drawled.  
  
Ginny turned back to him, fuming. "I was not undressing, Malfoy, I was taking off those wet things so they could dry!"  
  
  
  
He smiled again. "Well, from here it looks like undressing. Were you just teasing, little weasel? Is that how you get your thrills? You'll earn yourself a bad reputation that way!"  
  
He grinned smugly in the face of Ginny's indignation. Ginny so wanted to slap him, but that would require her to get closer. Instead, she grabbed the basin of water and dashed the contents right in his face.  
  
The water hit him full in the face and chest, plastering his shirt to him and causing the dried blood to begin running in bright pink streamlets from his hair and face. He had frozen in shock at her attack, but her high, delighted laugh and the look of triumph on her face broke his paralysis. Malfoy charged at the bars, reaching through and coming just short of her.  
  
Ginny hadn't realized she was so close and quickly stepped back to a safer distance. He looked furious! Good, she thought. She was tired of his sniping at her and insulting her. She was nowhere near his match at verbal sparring, so she would take her victories where she could get them.  
  
Realizing she was out of his reach, Malfoy backed away, wiping the hair from his face and wringing out the tail of the tee shirt. Ginny watched, a satisfied smirk on her face, until Malfoy caught her eye. He narrowed his own for a second, then smiled.  
  
"Not bad, little weasel. There seems to be much more to you than I ever suspected."  
  
Ginny was bewildered by the hint of admiration in his voice. As she watched, though, he looked down and shook his head.  
  
"Guess I'll follow your example," he said. His hands grabbed the bottom of the shirt and he pulled it over his head, struggling with the wet material. He balled it up in his hands and used it to wipe off his face. Then he ran the shirt over his arms and chest, trying to absorb the excess water.  
  
Ginny watched, fascinated. She didn't want to be fascinated, but despite his thinness, Malfoy was very well built. He turned slightly toward the fire and caught her eye again. He lowered his hands to his waistband.  
  
"The trousers are soaked, too, little weasel. Do you want to help me take them off?"  
  
Ginny coloured and turned quickly away. Malfoy laughed and Ginny was angry with herself. She had him locked up. She should be the one in control, but he seemed to know just what to do to keep her off balance, to take away her edge. She realized she should have left as soon as she'd doused him. That would made her the winner in what was looking like a battle of wills. But she actually stood there, ogling the boy she hated. And he'd caught her doing it. And taken immediate advantage of it.  
  
She reached out and felt her clothing. Still uncomfortable wet, but she'd had enough for right now. Better to quit while she was slightly ahead. She quickly donned the jumper and robe, ignoring the fact that Malfoy was still laughing. Then she brightened. Turning carefully toward him, she saw he was still wearing his trousers. He'd just been mocking her. Ginny gathered the food she'd brought yesterday and tossed it all in the fire. She put away what she'd brought for his breakfast, except the jug of pumpkin juice. Then she glanced at his face.  
  
Without the blood, he looked once more like the irritating, annoying, vicious git she hated. It was easier to be nasty to him when she wasn't feeling sorry for him. He looked amused, though. Ginny gestured toward the tee shirt she'd left in the cell. It had managed to escape the dousing she'd given Malfoy.  
  
"I brought you something clean to wear. But since you're not hungry, I'll leave you. I'll try to be back by dinnertime."  
  
She turned to leave, ignoring his protest. She had no intention of letting him go hungry all day, but a few more hours wouldn't do him any harm. And she'd left something to drink. Grinning at having got the last word in for once, she exited the chamber, looked carefully around, and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower. 


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: JKR owns everything worthwhile, like Draco, Ginny, Hogwarts, etc. The plot and Medic Timmons are mine.  
  
A/N: sorry, this chapter is very choppy, it doesn't flow smoothly and I hope you'll forgive me and continue to read. I had to cram a lot of information into one chapter, to give some insight into Draco's actions. Thanks to everyone still reading. And a special thanks to everyone who reads, reviews and logs in! I love reading your stories!!! K  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Some months earlier, life had been going along just fine for Draco Malfoy. On the Hogwarts Express, he'd successfully terrorized several first years. He and his cohorts had bullied some silly Hufflepuff females out of their compartment. He'd even had a run in with Potty, the Weasel and the Mudblood. Things were as they should be and all was right with the world. Then he'd left the compartment to run to the bathroom. And run into her.  
  
Draco had opened the compartment door, stepped out and collided with another student. A female student. A short, attractive female student with bright, fiery red curls.  
  
"My god," Draco sneered, his lip curled as usual. "Don't you weasels ever look where you're going? You've wrinkled my robe! AND I'll have to burn it! But, that's all right." He smirked as he eyed her slightly worn robe. "I have hundreds."  
  
It was a good insult. It conveyed that he was now polluted because they'd touched, and rubbed her nose in her poverty. He waited for the anger, the indignation, or the tears that would naturally follow. Then something bizarre happened. The girl looked up at him, but as though she didn't really see him. As though she had accidentally collided with a door or a wall. She looked right through him! Draco had the uncanny feeling that he wasn't even there. He almost pinched himself to make sure he was! Then, without even flinching, she walked right past him!  
  
Draco was so surprised that he just let her walk away. For the remainder of the ride to Hogwarts, he kept replaying the incident in his mind, trying to figure out how she had so completely ignored him. It galled him that someone he thought of as inferior had brushed him off so effortlessly and completely.  
  
By the time he reached Slytherin after the welcome feast, Draco had decided that the little Weasley girl would never get away with that again.  
  
By the second month of the new school year, however, Draco was in an almost constant state of rage. Not only was the little weasel still acting as though he didn't exist, she was in one of his classes. And doing better than he was! It was maddening! It was infuriating! And, Draco told himself daily, it was unacceptable. He sneered at her and she ignored him. He insulted her, her family, her looks, her skills, and she acted as though she hadn't even heard him. Even a flea or a mosquito would have gotten more response out of her!  
  
In fact, the only time the little weasel ever seemed to really see him was when he was playing Quidditch! Then her sharp, observant eyes seemed to see his every move! They seemed to detect every little mistake he or a teammate made. His team hadn't even played Gryffindor, yet, but he'd felt her eyes on him. Oh, he knew she wasn't watching him with anything like admiration. She was spying for her own team. She was looking for any weaknesses, any chinks in the Slytherin defense she could exploit for their match. He'd tried the same thing when Gryffindor played against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He'd tried to throw off her game, glaring at her throughout the games, but again, she hadn't seemed aware of him.  
  
Things continued unchanged for a few more weeks. The Christmas holidays were coming up and Draco was returning home for the break. He wasn't really looking forward to it as it meant an endless round of visiting with his father's friends, mostly Deatheaters and political climbers. His father had hinted that the dark lord might even visit them! Draco shuddered at this. Voldemort might be powerful and awesome, but he was a repellant figure, as well. Draco remembered the only other time he'd met Voldemort. The man, or creature or whatever he was had even touched Draco's head, ruffling his fine, silky hair. Draco had loathed the gesture as well as the touch. And he'd felt there was something just not right with the dark wizard. Something about him didn't ring true. But his father supported him, and Draco agreed that the Muggle and Mudblood influence on the wizarding community needed to be stopped.  
  
There were only a few days left until the holiday break and Draco was finding the little weasel's attitude intolerable. He decided that he would get her attention, force her to acknowledge him before he left. That would give her two weeks to make herself sick with worry about what he would do when he got back. Oh, he wouldn't really hurt her badly; just shake her up a bit. It was a good idea, he thought. And because of it, his life would never be the same.  
  
On Thursday morning before the holidays, Draco had been trying to think of a way to get at the little weasel. The only time he ever saw her without that tall, black friend of hers or her brother and his friends was at the Magical Healing class. But, as the next Slytherin class was in the opposite direction from the weasel's, he would have to force the issue. He decided he would follow her toward her next class until they were well away from everyone else. Glancing at Crabbe and Goyle, who were walking with him to breakfast, Draco decided he'd better not tell them. They would want to come along and help. Draco didn't plan to do anything to be expelled over; he just wanted to scare the little weasel a bit. If these two oafs came, things might get out of hand.  
  
As they entered the Great Hall, Draco found himself looking for her. He finally spotted her, sitting with her back to him, halfway down the Gryffindor table. As he waited for the food to appear, he bent his entire attention on a point in the center of her back. He'd been trying to force her to sense him for several weeks, but so far, nothing had happened. He'd used this talent before, when trying to intimidate others, and it had been successful. But she still never noticed a thing. Draco tried to tell himself that she was just too stupid to sense the danger to herself, but he knew she was anything but stupid. He could not consider, let alone admit, that her will might be stronger than he'd suspected. Because if he considered that, he might have to consider that he might be wrong about other things.  
  
Draco continued to stare at her, concentrating hard. He was just about to give up, when she suddenly straightened. He saw her tighten her shoulders, as though trying to ease an ache, then turn her head slightly from side to side. He felt elated! He'd done it! She was just turning around to look his way when the food appeared and broke his concentration. As he watched, she shook her head slightly, confused, then returned to her conversation with her friend.  
  
Draco smiled as he ate his breakfast. It was finally working! A few more seconds and she would have looked at him. She would have known that he had the power to affect her without even touching her! And soon, in just a few hours, she would know that he had even more power over her. He decided that it was going to be a great day!  
  
The first two classes were the usual boring stuff. The History of Magic professor kept rambling on about the defeat of the 'evil' wizard Grindelwald, praising that old fool Dumbledore. Draco rolled his eyes. According to his father, Grindelwald had tried to do what Voldemort was doing. He'd tried to weed out the chaff, stamp out the rising tide of Mudbloods infecting the wizarding community. He'd tried to keep the blood pure, as it should be!  
  
And Voldemort was trying to do the same thing! If his methods were extreme, well, there were lots of bleeding heart Muggle lovers out there that had to be taken care of. Like the Weasleys! They were a pureblooded wizarding family, but did they appreciate what an honor that was? No! They rubbed elbows with Mudbloods like that Granger bitch. Their father worked with Muggle objects, trying to protect the stupid Muggles from bewitched artifacts. Draco had even heard that one of the brothers was dating a Muggle! It was an outrage!  
  
He thought of the little weasel again, glancing at the clock to see that class would be out in a few minutes. He couldn't wait!  
  
As he hurried up to Magical Healing, Draco was planning what he would say to the girl. She wasn't anywhere in the corridor, so he opened the door and looked in. Damn! She was already in her seat. That was fine, Draco thought. He would still get her after class.  
  
The class was plodding along, the clock on the wall hardly seeming to move. Then the instructor pulled out a different textbook. It was the text they were to begin on the following term. But the stupid git actually expected them to be looking through it now?  
  
"Miss Weasley, I'm sure I saw you leafing through this book in the library, just last week?" the medic asked the little weasel. Even from behind, Draco could see the red flush rising up her neck.  
  
"I suppose, uh, that, uh I might have glanced through it, sir." The girl sounded like an idiot! Before he could stop himself, Draco made a quiet comment.  
  
"She supposes she might have looked. Of course, being a stupid little weasel, she wouldn't be sure about it."  
  
Pansy and Blaise, seated on either side of Draco, both sniggered, Pansy's hissing laugh sounding like a snake having fits. But the little weasel didn't do anything. She didn't even clench her fists. She had to have heard. He was about to add another comment about being stupid and deaf, when the medic rounded on him.  
  
"My, my, you certainly have a lot to say, Mr. Malfoy." Draco could not believe the man was singling him out. Didn't he know who he was dealing with? Draco barely heard the rest, other than the medic telling him he would not allow students to carry out personal feuds in his class. And it was all Weasley's fault! She had goaded him into this! And she would pay!  
  
The medic was still babbling, something about a quiz. Five points for each correct answer. Draco sat up and started concentrating. He'd be damned before he let the stupid little bitch get even one question correct. Besides, there were eight Slytherins and only one little Gryff.  
  
The first question was pretty easy. He was surprised none of the other Slytherins had raised their hands. He was even more surprised the little weasel hadn't tried.  
  
"Even a sixth year should have known that," he'd smirked quietly.  
  
The next question came and Weasley answered it quickly. He was surprised and angry, but he could allow her one answer. She answered the next and the next. Finally, when the class was almost over, Weasley had answered sixteen of the questions on her own. Draco was livid. Not only had she made the Slytherins look like fools, but none of the other Slytherins had answered a single question! They'd left it to him to do it all! And now they were looking at him as though Weasley's stomping them were his fault! Damn them all, anyway. And especially damn Weasley.  
  
The medic dismissed the class but asked Weasley to stay. Draco realized in an instant that this was his chance. He hurried from the room, telling Crabbe and Goyle he would meet them later. Then he found a dead-end corridor and waited. His insides were still in knots over the debacle in class. He couldn't let her get away with humiliating him like that! Suddenly Draco froze. She was coming! He carefully set his book bag aside and crept to the dark opening.  
  
Weasley was in a hurry. Doesn't want to be late for her next class, he sneered to himself. But she would be very late if he had anything to do with it! Then he saw her, curls bouncing, robe swishing as she hurried by. He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her into the passageway.  
  
Draco threw her against the wall and pinned her there with his arm. She gasped when she struck the wall, but didn't make any other sound. Draco pulled her wrist up behind her back, waiting for some sound, some movement from her. He wanted her to fight, to cry out. Instead, she was silent. He leaned forward and hissed in her ear.  
  
"Think you're soooo smart, do you, Weasley? You made me look a fool. Now, I'm going to make you very sorry you were born."  
  
Draco studied what little he could see of her face. She looked calm, as though she hadn't a care in the world! He still waited. Surely she would cry out, or ask him to stop. But she remained silent.  
  
"Nothing to say, Weasley?" Draco's anger exploded. She was still ignoring him! He twisted her wrist up higher, certain she would now scream. "You had plenty to say in class, though, didn't you? You would have done better to keep your mouth shut, little weasel. But now you can get as loud as you want. No one will hear you! And maybe," despite himself, he dropped his voice almost into a plea, "if you beg enough, I won't hurt you too much!"  
  
Then, finally, she spoke. "Coward!" she hissed at him. The one word held a wealth of contempt, but no fear. He pressed harder against her arm, asking incredulously, "What did you just call me?"  
  
"You're-A-Coward-Draco-Malfoy!" she said. Slowly, carefully, to make sure he caught every word! This was too much! He yanked her around and grabbed her throat. He would strangle her! No one spoke to him that way! He tightened his grip, waiting for her to finally react. Instead, she pulled at his hands and continued to berate him.  
  
"Must be proud, Malfoy! So brave and strong! Beating up a girl half your size!"  
  
"Bitch!" he said as her words hit him. He raised his hand, but in that second he realized she was right. He looked down at Weasley's bruised, cut face and saw that he was acting like a coward, trying to beat a girl who could never match his strength. And for what? Because she wouldn't look at him? Because she wouldn't be afraid of him? He felt his anger ebbing away and was loosening his grip on her throat when she finally struck back.  
  
Pain exploded in his groin! It wrenched at his stomach, spread through his body and finally slammed into his brain. He dropped to the floor, only able to cup his hand protectively over himself and fight not to throw up. He never knew there was so much pain in the world. Not even the beatings his father had given him as a boy had hurt like this! And it was the little weasel that had done it!  
  
He heard Weasley choking and coughing, fighting to get air. Even through the pain he realized how close he'd been to really hurting her. No wonder she'd retaliated! Gods! What was he thinking? He opened his eyes and saw her trying to pick up her bag. She reached out carefully, but had to move closer to him. He reached out and grabbed her ankle, trying to get her closer, trying to tell her it had gotten out of hand. But she panicked! She sat and kicked at him, hard!  
  
Draco heard the snap as both bones in his lower arm broke. This time the pain almost overwhelmed him. He yanked his arm back and tried to ease the pain. He felt the darkness stealing over him and he glared at Weasley, who had caused it all. She was scrambling away from him, the fear he had sought now written plainly on her face. Then it was gone. She looked almost - guilty! But that couldn't be. It was a trick to allay his anger, he thought. When her eyes met his he gritted out, "Not over yet, Weasley!" Then Draco lost consciousness.  
  
The pain in his groin had settled into a dull throb when Draco finally came to. The wrist, however, screeched in pain when he moved it. Clumsily fumbling for his wand with his right hand, Draco pulled it from his robe pocket. Then he looked dumbly at it and let it drop to the floor. How did one mend a broken wrist? Especially when it was attached to the hand he used to cast spells. The spells for bones seemed to have flown out of his head. He scowled as he realized that Weasley would probably be able to handle this within minutes. He sat back and tried to remember the right spells, but could only replay what had happened with Weasley.  
  
He ought to be whipped for losing his temper so thoroughly. By now she was probably in Dumbledore's office arranging his immediate expulsion. Draco wondered if he blamed her. He hadn't meant to beat her; he hadn't even meant to really hurt her. He'd just wanted to scare her, to force her to acknowledge him. But she had certainly surprised him. He was going to stop himself anyway, but she had stopped him very effectively. He knew he was much stronger than she was, but she had nearly crippled him with pain. He hadn't even been able to speak more than a few words, then he'd blacked out.  
  
Draco leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The throbbing in his arm was still horrible, but he ignored it. He wasn't a stranger to pain; he just had not expected to experience it from this quarter. He was in two minds about the little weasel now. Part of him wanted to make her pay for causing him this pain. If he let her get away with it, she might think she had beaten him. But the other part of him grudgingly admired the slight girl who had finally stood up to him. It had taken him nearly strangling her, but she'd done it.  
  
The last thing in the world Draco wanted to do was to admire Virginia Weasley. She was his enemy. She treated him like he was invisible. She was a Muggle lover and friends with Mudbloods. But she was also smart, brave and damned strong! Draco decided the pain was finally getting to him, that he wasn't thinking straight. He shook his head and grimaced at the pain in his wrist. That should be his first consideration. He would heal himself, set up an alibi, then decide what to do with the little weasel.  
  
Draco awkwardly lifted the wand with his right hand and thought hard. The words to bone mending spells finally came back to him. He murmured a spell and clumsily tapped his left wrist. Nothing happened. With a curse, he repositioned the wand. He tried again, but, again, nothing happened. Finally, several spells later, he got the right one. He could feel the bones knitting together. It was almost as painful as the original injury, and Draco cursed Weasley again and again.  
  
Over an hour later, Draco's wrist had healed enough to be relatively pain free. He carefully stood, wincing at the continued ache in his groin. He wouldn't try to fix anything there. The worst of the pain had passed and he figured he could live with what was left. He picked up his book bag, returned his wand to his pocket and set out for the hospital wing. He would complain of an upset stomach, get a pass from Madame Pomfrey to clear him from his missed class, then go to lunch. He could wait until after classes to decide what to do with Weasley. Meanwhile, he had to act as though nothing had happened.  
  
That evening, in the Slytherin Common Room, Draco was waylaid by Crabbe and Goyle. He had missed his fourth period class and they knew he hadn't been in the hospital wing the entire time.  
  
"Come on, Malfoy," Crabbe said. "You looked ready to spit nails after Healing. What happened? Why didn't you show up to Transfiguration?"  
  
Draco looked at the two young men who were the closest things to friends he had. He didn't trust them. He knew they reported everything that happened to their fathers, and didn't relish the thought of them reporting his little confrontation with Weasley. Not only would it make him look more foolish than the quiz earlier had, but some strange impulse told him not to bring his near-obsession with the girl to their attention. He tried to put them off, but they were more persistent than usual. Finally, to get them off his back, he gave them an abbreviated account of his contretemps with her. He didn't give all the details, but enough to have them rolling on the floor, laughing.  
  
Giving them a sour look, Draco declared that he was going to dinner and if they wished to waste their time laughing like idiots, that was their prerogative. They finally stifled their laughter and joined him.  
  
Draco immediately spotted Weasley at the Gryffindor table. She was seated facing toward him, but she was staring down at the table. This was good! She must be afraid to look at him. As he watched, though, he noticed that she started chatting with her friends, at ease, as though nothing unusual had happened. When the food arrived, she ate with as much appetite as usual! She was doing it again! Any admiration Draco had felt was instantly wiped away. The insufferable bitch didn't even care that he'd nearly killed her. She had healed herself and was now telling him by her actions that he wasn't worth worrying about! He glared at her, wanting to walk over and slap the fork from her hand. He wanted to pull her out of her seat and drag her from the Great Hall. And then - then he would - he stopped. She froze, then looked around, panicked. Her eyes flew to his and widened. She HAD felt his look!  
  
Draco smiled. This was what he'd wanted. He had wanted her to know that he was someone to be reckoned with, and now she knew. Her eyes were still wide and frightened and Draco smiled more broadly. Then he frowned. Her gaze had just gone vacant. She was looking at him still, but she no longer saw him. She had somehow slipped away from him again! How did she do that? He focused on her again, trying to pull her back from where ever she'd escaped to, when her friend nudged her, causing her to break eye contact with him. She shook her head slightly, then gave her friend a small smile, blushing.  
  
It was maddening! He'd had her full attention for less than ten seconds. Draco felt the rage welling up again, but this time he stifled it as he studied the tiny girl who'd caused it. She and her friend stood, her friend looking very serious, but Weasley only looking distracted. What was it about her that made him so insane, anyway? Why was he wasting all this energy on her? He didn't know and didn't want to know. He wasn't used to questioning his own motives. As he watched Weasley and her friend leave the Great Hall, he decided he would have to just let things be for now. If he continued as he was going, he was going to get himself expelled, or worse.  
  
Draco had convinced himself that he should leave Weasley alone for now, but all his arguments flew right out of his head the moment he set eyes on her the next morning. Crabbe and Goyle had noticed his distraction with the redhead last night. Now they were trying to get more details from him, but he was trying to ignore them. Then she came hurrying down the hallway toward them. Draco saw her first, and felt his insides tighten as her eyes slid right over him, settling on Crabbe instead. Then, unbelievably, Crabbe stepped in front of him, blocking his way and letting the little weasel slip into the classroom.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Draco demanded in a whisper, trying to shove past Crabbe.  
  
"We don't know what's going on between you and Weasley, but me and Goyle have plans for her already!" Crabbe hissed back.  
  
Draco looked at him in surprise, but then curled his lip in his usual smirk.  
  
"Plans? What kind of plans could you two idiots have for a girl like her? You think she'd look twice at either of you?" Draco was about to push away when he saw the dark, crafty look pass from Crabbe to Goyle. Goyle had taken something from his pocket and was running it through his hand caressingly. It was a long, green hair ribbon.  
  
"She don't need to look at us for what we want," Goyle said with a harsh chuckle. "We just use a controlling spell with this little bit of ribbon, and she'll be our ticket!"  
  
Draco realized the hair ribbon must be one of Weasley's. These two were planning on using it in some spell to gain power over her, then they would probably kidnap her when they were ready! She was to be their sacrifice to become Deatheaters!  
  
"You two? Deatheaters?" He lowered his voice even more, disbelief warring with contempt. "You'd probably end up killing yourselves. Now give me that before you get us all expelled!"  
  
More loudly, he added, "Stupid dolt. What the hell did you think you were doing?" Then, quickly, before either could react, Draco grabbed the ribbon and buried it deep in his own trouser pocket. Goyle let out a small squawk of protest, but Crabbe gripped Draco by the front of his robe and shoved him against the door. The larger boy then lifted Draco from his feet, still pinning him against the door.  
  
"Give it back, Malfoy," Crabbe muttered angrily.  
  
Draco curled his lip in patented Malfoy style. "Try and take it, you stupid git!"  
  
Crabbe apparently wasn't willing to push Draco that far. Instead, he tried pressing him harder into the door, digging his fists into Draco's chest.  
  
"Just lay off, right?" Crabbe said threateningly.  
  
Draco widened his eyes. Vincent Crabbe was threatening him? Oh, now this was just too much. First the little weasel, now these two imbeciles! Draco grabbed Crabbe's wrist and started squeezing. He glared right Crabbe's angry eyes and twisted the young man's wrist while he was squeezing. It was a matter of pressure and leverage; pressure on the delicate bones of the wrist, and twisting against the natural motion of the wrist. But it made short work of Crabbe's aggression. The pain in his wrist became unbearable and he released Draco abruptly. Draco was about to snap at the two, but saw Medic Timmons rounding the corner on his way to class. Instead, he turned and stalked toward his desk. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Vincent Crabbe had had the gall to try to threaten him! Draco wasn't even thinking about Weasley any more, until she turned her large, slightly troubled brown eyes toward him.  
  
Draco nearly stopped in his tracks. She was looking directly at him, a frown creasing her forehead. He stepped behind her, noticing that her shoulders stiffened slightly. So, she wasn't immune to him! He reached out, meaning to give her hair a nasty yank, but the moment his fingers touched the smooth skin of her neck, he found that he couldn't. Instead, in spite of himself, his fingers twisted around the silky, shining curl he'd captured, and held it softly, stroking it with his thumb. What would it feel like to run all his fingers through the bright, curling mass, he wondered.  
  
Then, suddenly, he was angry with himself. She was a Weasley and a Gryffindor. He didn't care how soft her hair was or how brave she was. She was someone to sneer at. He gave the curl a small tug, just to remind her that he was bigger and meaner than she. He leaned over slightly and hissed, "Remember, it's not over yet, little weasel."  
  
Draco released the curl and slipped into his own seat. He felt the eyes of the other Slytherins on him and knew they were wondering what had just happened. He was wondering the same thing himself. What the hell had gotten into him? He had been planning to ignore the little weasel, but the second he'd seen her he had been ready to resume hostilities. He didn't give a damn whether Crabbe or Goyle got their stupid arses kicked out of school, yet he'd jumped into the middle of their plans. For all he knew, they had several of Weasley's personal items. Why had the sight of the hair ribbon made him so angry? And, when he had planned to redeem himself in his own eyes, by doing something typically spiteful, he hadn't been able to. Nothing seemed to have gone right since he'd decided to make Weasley notice him.  
  
Even now, waiting while Medic Timmons passed out some assignment, Draco couldn't keep his eyes off the bright red curls that had so annoyed him in the past. He noticed how they brushed against her long neck and bounced slightly when she moved her head.  
  
Draco clenched his hands into tight fists. By the fates, this was sick making! It was ludicrous! He would NOT let a poor little nobody like Virginia Weasley get to him! Not now, and not ever! Draco glanced down at the sheet the medic had given him and automatically filled in the longest word. As he concentrated on the task, glancing only occasionally at the slim girl in front of him, Draco began to furiously fill in the blanks.  
  
"Ten minutes!" the medic called. Draco was just filling in the last word. He almost stood to claim his points, when he saw Weasley was almost done as well. He waited until she rose, then he lifted his paper and called out, "I'm finished, sir!"  
  
Weasley stiffened, but didn't turn to look at him. That was fine, Draco thought. He still wasn't sure what to do about her. One thing was certain, though. He would get her alone after class. Then he would figure out what to do with the annoying little thorn in his side. He wasn't really paying attention to the class until Weasley went up to the medic's desk and spoke softly with him. He didn't hear the conversation, but when Weasley returned to her seat, she sat and put her book away. She seemed to be favoring her right arm, the one he'd twisted behind her. Draco wondered for a moment if he'd done some serious damage, but then he saw Goyle from the side of his eyes. Gregory Goyle was giving the little weasel a ridiculously concerned look and motioning for her to hurry. What the hell? he wondered. Weasley rose and looked at Draco. The look on her face was a mix of anxiety and something else that he couldn't quite name. He looked back, wondering what she was up to. Why was she preparing to leave this early? He would have to practically run to catch her once class was out. The medic's voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Miss Weasley, wasn't there something you needed to do?"  
  
Weasley turned toward the medic and gave him a sort of relieved smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir and Happy Christmas!"  
  
Then Weasley was gone. Draco fumed. She'd planned it, the conniving little harpy! Now he would never be able to catch her. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle and saw that they seemed well pleased. He narrowed his eyes at them. They must want to keep him away from the little shrew. Maybe they thought he had his own plans for her. Well, he mused, he did. But his plans didn't include letting anyone else in on it. Anything he planned to do to Weasley, he would do in private.  
  
After an eternity, the bell finally rang. Crabbe and Goyle both rose, seeming determined to stop him from following Weasley. Fortunately, the medic insisted that everyone who hadn't completed the worksheet (which was everyone but Draco and Weasley) stay and hand them in individually so he could grade what they'd completed. Draco jumped from his desk and nearly ran from the classroom. He knew which way Weasley would go and quickly headed down the corridor. He passed the hallway he'd ambushed her from the day before, not even giving it a glance. She was somewhere up ahead and he hurried to find her.  
  
Draco was nearing the curve that took him to the stairs leading down when he heard her behind him.  
  
"Malfoy!" she whispered loudly.  
  
Draco spun, surprised. She was approaching him slowly, cautiously, with her wand in her hand. The look of determination on her face would have been slightly daunting if it weren't funny. But again, Draco felt a grudging tug of admiration. She looked determined to take him on, despite the odds. He took a careful step toward her, knowing she would never actually attack him unprovoked.  
  
He held out his hand and made his voice low and coaxing. "Put it down, little weasel. You know you're not going to use it."  
  
He was only a few steps away, almost close enough to snatch the wand from her hand. Then he saw her eyes harden as she aimed right at his chest. Good lord, he thought, surprised and incredulous at the same time. She was really going to do it! His last conscious thought was that she had never looked more stunning.  
  
Then she shouted her spell and Draco's world went dark. 


	7. Chapter Six

A/N More catching up, but the next chapter will be back to normal. Thanks to everyone who is still reading and I apologize for the delay. Next chapter will probably be up in a day or two. K  
  
  
  
Sunday morning, Christmas morning. Draco stared moodily at the low fire in the grate and sighed. Happy Christmas, you stupid bastard, he sneered at himself. When he'd finally come to on Friday evening, he'd been woozy and disoriented. The stupefy spell had been a powerful one. Either Weasley was a much stronger witch than he'd imagined, or she'd been on the verge of panic when she'd hexed him. It was possible that she was a bit of both. Not that it mattered. She had somehow gotten him into this cell, wherever it was, and had locked him up. After getting his bearings, he'd gone over every inch of the cell, looking for a way out. The cell was solidly made, however. There were no loose bars, no hidden passages through the stone walls, and, without his wand, no way to use magic to get out.  
  
He could not believe that Weasley had actually locked him up! How dare she? It was humiliating! First she'd acted like he didn't even exist. Then she had nearly unmanned him with her dirty fighting tricks. Finally, she'd unexpectedly hexed him when he'd—well—not expected it. She was just full of surprised, lately. He hated to admit that he had completely underestimated her, and he hated her for causing him to admit it. He felt stupid for allowing a slip of a girl that he had considered his inferior in every way to get the better of him. His stomach growled and he sighed again.  
  
He glanced over at the food Weasley had left the evening before. He still hadn't touched it, but it was looking better and better every minute. Not that there was anything wrong with it; Weasley seemed to have purposely chosen appetizing foods that would make it difficult for him to resist. His eyes narrowed as he looked away. He wished he could block out his thoughts, but there was nothing else to do except think. Weasley also seemed to have chosen appetizing clothing that was difficult to resist, as well. Good Lord, he thought with disgust. That was all he needed, to suddenly find Virginia Weasley irresistible! Despite his self-disgust, he clearly remembered everything she'd worn since she'd locked him up. She'd been wearing the creamy turtleneck yesterday morning, and being damp, it had perfectly outlined her slim, supple shape. When she had returned at midday, she had changed into a sapphire blue jumper. Draco would have thought she should avoid blues with her colouring, but it had looked delicious on her. He had been angry that her appearance was distracting him, so he provoked a fight. She'd left quickly, taking his lunch with her, but had returned once more, in the evening. She was still wearing the jumper, but had pulled her hair back in a matching ribbon. Only one or two wispy curls were able to escape to tease her temples. She looked even more luscious than before, but the ribbon reminded him of the one that had been in his pocket.  
  
What the hell had happened to it, he'd wondered. She must have found it. He couldn't help wondering what she'd made of it. She hadn't mentioned it, though, so maybe she hadn't recognized it. But with his luck, she would probably think he'd taken it because he liked her! Well, he would be happy to correct that particular misconception immediately. Regardless of how delicious she might look, there was no way he felt anything but distain, disgust and ridicule for Weasley or any of her family.  
  
Draco's stomach growled again, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at the food again before looking away. She always brought pumpkin juice with his meals, but he was getting heartily sick of pumpkin juice. It was all he'd had since Friday morning. He'd never liked it above half, but now he detested it. Last night, however, she had brought grilled chops, applesauce, and buttered rolls. When she'd entered, the steam was still rising from the grilled chops and the butter on the rolls was melting. It was mouthwatering. And it showed that she was deliberately trying to entice him into eating. She kept bleating about him dying of malnutrition, and her having to dispose of the body, so he knew she was purposely tempting him. He didn't want to eat what she brought, though. To do so would be to admit that he was in her power. At least that was what he'd told himself Friday and Saturday. Today, however, even the hard rolls and cold chops looked good. To get his mind off his stomach, he thought over what had happened last night. Weasley had left abruptly again, but only after she'd stayed for some time.  
  
Draco snorted to himself. Yes, she'd stayed for some time, and forced him to listen to her ridiculous prattle. When she wasn't whining about him eating, she was talking a lot of crap about how wizards and Muggles should get along, about how being pureblooded wasn't really that special, and some other things. And some of the things Weasley had said had bothered him a lot. So, of course, they had fought. Draco closed his eyes, remembering.  
  
Weasley had come in, carefully, as always, but not nearly as cautiously as on the first few visits. She was carrying a tray this time, along with her book bag. He'd wondered briefly how she got past Filch and his cat so often. Then Draco had noticed the hair ribbon. It looked as though she had purposely pulled out the wayward curls so they would dangle temptingly around her face. He doubted it, though. She just didn't seem the type. He especially didn't think she would worry about her appearance for him. Weasley set her tray down and turned to him with a small smile.  
  
"Hungry?" she'd asked.  
  
Draco's mouth was watering at the aroma of freshly grilled chops, but he moved away from the bars to lean against the back wall of the cell. To get his mind off food, he decided to try to fluster her again. Perhaps he could provoke her into coming nearer again. He was sure her wand was in the pocket of her robe. He might just be able to grab her long enough to get hold of her wand. At least it would pass the time.  
  
With just the smallest curl to his lip he drawled, "I told you, Weasley, I'm not hungry for food. But if you want to come over here…" He let the sentence hang as his eyes moved slowly from her face down to her toes and back again.  
  
This time, however, she didn't take the bait. She merely clicked her tongue and shook her head at him.  
  
"If you want to starve yourself, I guess that's your business," she said with a small laugh. "But I think it's awfully unfair of you to expect me to dispose of your body when you fade away. Lord knows you're skinny enough, already." This was said in a slightly strangled voice.  
  
He looked curiously at her, noting the way her eyes darted quickly away from his. But then she moved back to the opposite wall and sat on the floor, curling her legs under her. Her robe fell open to reveal the flattering jumper and a luscious expanse of long, shapely legs in black tights. His eyes rested on her legs, then wandered up to the hem of her skirt. He let his eyes travel up from there, resting on the snug jumper. He really hadn't realized she was so attractive. He was used to thinking of her as an annoying little girl, sometimes maddeningly annoying, but still a little girl. He was seeing that she had grown up. His gaze finally moved up to her face and the bright curls pulled back in the ribbon. Her hair was always clean and shining. She looked as fresh as spring, he thought with a large dose of revulsion at the sentimental sound of it. By contrast, he felt filthy in the borrowed tee shirt, the same trousers he'd worn for the last few days, and unbrushed teeth. That she seemed so calm in the face of his discomfort infuriated him. Suddenly, her shoulders stiffened. She must have felt his scrutiny, he thought. She seemed to be blushing slightly, but it might have been the firelight making it appear that way.  
  
She didn't look at him, though. Instead, she took the bag from her shoulder, pulled out a book and started reading! Reading! While he was locked up, smelly, hungry, and unable to comfortably use the bathroom, the little wench was studying! It was enough to make him want to throttle her all over again. He might just as well not have been there! He looked around for something to throw at her, but there was only the chamber pot, his thin blanket, or the tray of food. He wasn't ready to hurl his own body waste at ANYONE quite yet, especially not the only person who knew he was here. And, even though he didn't plan to eat it, he wasn't about to toss the food away, either. He eyed the blanket with dissatisfaction. THAT would not go very far to get her attention.  
  
He decided he'd just have to yell at her, or something, when she looked up. He was surprised (and that seemed to be a constant state of mind for him lately; she was always surprising him, it seemed) at the expression on her face. It was one of earnest entreaty. He frowned, wondering what could be on her mind to make her look at him that way. He didn't have to wait long.  
  
"Tell me something, Malfoy," she said quietly, her eyes never leaving his. "What makes someone like you think he's so much better than anyone else? What special gifts do you possess that could possibly account for your arrogance? There must be something that so inflated your ego that you think you can treat people the way you do."  
  
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words at the moment. Like her stupefying him, forging his writing, dousing him with water, and healing his wound so efficiently, her questions were a complete shock. His feeling of superiority was so ingrained in him that he never questioned it, himself, and certainly couldn't imagine a nobody like Weasley doing so. Couldn't she sense it, just from looking at him? Wasn't it evident to her? With another uncomfortable shock, he realized that it obviously was not. Again, he tried to form an answer, but now that he had to put the matter into words, he found he couldn't. He closed his mouth, realizing he looked like a fool, gaping that way.  
  
Weasley watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer. She looked disappointed when he didn't reply, and lowered her eyes. "I know I can't MAKE you answer," she said in a small voice. "But if you could explain it to me, maybe I could understand what makes you such a hateful monster. And maybe I could understand what would make you persecute someone who is obviously no match for you. And, in time, I might even understand why someone twice my size and strength would stoop to trying to beat me up when I'd done nothing to him!"  
  
She rose then and actually came closer. Not close enough to touch, but closer than she'd previously come on purpose before.  
  
"And while you're at it, Malfoy," she continued, her soft voice growing hard, "tell me why having pure blood makes you special? There are plenty of pureblooded Squibbs around. And there are plenty of fabulous wizards and witches whose parents were Muggles. What makes you better than them?"  
  
He told himself to laugh at her, to ignore the angry confusion in her voice. Then he unfolded his arms and moved to the bars again. Wrapping both hands around the bars, he gave her a hard look. She sounded confused and hurt, but it was just a ploy. She was the one confusing him. He hated her, just as he hated her brothers and family, just as he hated all stupid, weak Muggle lovers. The Muggles and Mudbloods were infecting the wizarding community; their influence was everywhere! But this tiny, silly girl was making him wonder at his own feelings and actions. Goaded by anger and bewilderment, he finally answered.  
  
"I don't have to explain why I'm better, little weasel. I just know I am. If your family wasn't a filthy pack of poor, pathetic Muggle lovers, you'd know it, too.  
  
Even as he spoke, Draco wished he could take the words back. He wasn't speaking to Ron, who had Potter and Granger to stand up for him. He was speaking to Ginny, the littlest weasel, who didn't even have her tall friend with her. His stomach churned as he watched her lower her eyes. Hell, he thought, she was going to start crying! But she only looked down for a minute. Then she raised her head and looked sadly at him.  
  
"Yes, we're poor," she said finally. "And maybe we are a bit pathetic. If it's pathetic to care for other people, to not take advantage of others' weaknesses, then we're pathetic. And we do like the nice Muggles we've met, like Hermione's parents. But we're also pretty happy."  
  
Draco started to make a disgusted comment, but Weasley interrupted him.  
  
"I don't know why you hate Muggles so much, or why you think being pureblooded is so important. Because if you follow your family tree back far enough, you'll find Muggles, you know. We all started somewhere. Just remember one thing, Malfoy," she added with a look of pity. "You have pureblood, Muggle hating parents. Are you happy?"  
  
She turned her back on him before he answered. "You're a Malfoy, exactly like your father, and you're rich. You have hundreds of robes, you said months ago, but you don't even have one real friend. There isn't anyone who cares what happens to you. I think that's terribly sad."  
  
She sat again, then pulled her book out, preparing to read.  
  
Draco was stunned. She felt sorry for him?! She wore shabby robes, most of her books were second hand, and her parents barely had two sickles to rub together. But she had the nerve to pity him! Laugh, his brain ordered him again. Laugh and let her see that her words have no effect on you. But he couldn't. She'd meant what she'd said. She was poor, but happy. She was proud of her family, and didn't apologize for them. And she did have friends.  
  
But this was unbelievable. He couldn't just stand here with his mouth hanging open. He gave her his most superior sneer and drawled, "Of course I'm happy, little weasel. I can have anything I want, either by buying it or conjuring it. Do you think I care about friends? Do you think I care about what other people think? What gives you the right to question me?"  
  
Weasley was up off the floor in a second and at the very limit of his reach. He didn't reach, though. He was watching her face, fascinated. Her eyes were flashing and her mouth curled into a sneer worthy of—well—a Malfoy!  
  
"You want to know what gives me the right? I'll show you!"  
  
Before Draco's astonished gaze, she flung her robe off and hauled the jumper over her head. She was wearing a plain, white school blouse underneath. She unbuttoned the top two buttons and pulled the collar apart. At the base of her neck, normally hidden by her clothing, were two purple and black marks. They looked like smudges of ash, but Draco knew immediately what they were. They were the marks of his thumbs from when he'd tried to choke her. He felt the blood leave his face, and his hands gripped the bars even more tightly. He had no idea he'd gripped her neck hard enough to leave bruises.  
  
He finally pried one hand from the bars and held it toward her. He grimaced when she flinched and backed up a few steps.  
  
"Look, Weasley, I—," he began, but she cut him off.  
  
"Save it, Malfoy. I don't know why I bothered. 'Like father, like son', isn't that the way it goes?"  
  
Weasley angrily buttoned her blouse again and snatched the robe and jumper up from the floor, pacing as she continued to speak.  
  
"Your father was a murderous, lying bastard. He was a hypocrite and a cheat. You must be proud! You're just the same."  
  
Now there were tears in her eyes. Draco had been unable to do or say anything. This passionate outburst was the last thing he'd expected. Then her words hit him. 'Like father, like son'. 'Murderous bastard', 'hypocrite'. Who the hell did she think she was talking to?  
  
"What are you talking about, Weasley?" he demanded, his voice hissing through his clenched jaw. "What do you know about my father?"  
  
She suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth, looking at him with wide, guilty eyes.  
  
"You called my father a murdering bastard and a liar, Weasley," Draco snarled. "You said something like that before. You can't say things like that and leave it hanging. What the hell do you think you know?"  
  
Weasley lowered her hand slowly and moved back to the opposite wall, absently putting her jumper back on. When she finished, she turned to him, looking resolute.  
  
"I wasn't—I didn't mean to say anything at all," she said finally. "But since I started, I might as well finish."  
  
The look on her face was so grave that Draco braced himself. He knew there were things about his father that he frankly didn't want to know or believe, and he had a feeling what the little weasel was about to say was one of those things. But he was completely unprepared for what she did tell him. Absolute crap about his father wanting to marry her mother! Even for political reasons, he couldn't believe it. And that skinny, ineffectual weakling, Arthur Weasley, rescuing Molly Weasley and outsmarting Lucius Malfoy? There was just no way. But something was gnawing at the back of his mind; some tiny, irritating little voice was saying that he'd heard others, his father's supposed friends, saying something like this before. Laughing behind their hands about it, but quietly, so Lucius wouldn't hear them.  
  
No, he wouldn't believe it. The little weasel was lying. She was trying to confuse him. He now saw that this was her revenge. She had him captive, and since he couldn't shut her up, she would just sit here and fabricate outrageous stories that he couldn't disprove. That had to be it.  
  
Well, Draco thought, not if he could help it. He looked right into Weasley's eyes and sneered again. "I've seen your mother, Weasley. Can you look at her, then look at my mother and honestly tell me you think my father ever looked twice at the fat cow?"  
  
That had done it. Weasley gave him a shocked, hurt look, which she covered immediately. Then she put her robe back on, picked up her book and bag, and left the chamber without another word.  
  
Draco finally opened his eyes. He wanted to forget what the stupid little weasel had said, but found it impossible. During the long hours of the evening, and through last night, he'd gone over her words again and again. Draco realized now that thinking she would make up stories to try to discredit his parents was ludicrous. He knew she didn't lie, and if there was a single vindictive bone in her body, he would be much more miserable than he was now. But her story seemed so impossible. If, however, what she said were true, it would explain his father's obsessive hatred of the Weasleys. They certainly weren't the only pureblood wizarding family that rubbed elbows with Mudbloods. And Arthur Weasley wasn't the only wizard that tried to protect Muggles from malicious magic. Draco could even imagine that if his woman were threatened, Arthur Weasley might be someone to be reckoned with. Maybe. But he still couldn't imagine his father wooing and courting the woman he knew as Molly Weasley. Draco tried to imagine the woman as she would have been several years ago, but found that he couldn't.  
  
Even if he could have, though, he still couldn't imagine his father with a fiery haired, short, stout matron like Weasley's mother. Not when he compared her to his own mother. Unless it was as Weasley had said. He could imagine his father doing just about anything to win support for Voldemort, creepy as he was, even if it meant murdering or marrying the slightly common daughter of an equally common, but very prominent wizarding family.  
  
Draco dropped his head into his hands. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of the boredom. And he was so tired of being locked in this stupid cell. If what Weasley had told him last night were true, though, he didn't blame her. She probably thought he was capable of murder, at this point. Draco tried to reconcile kidnapping, threatened rape and brutalization with the man he knew as his father. He remembered the beatings he had received as a child, and could well believe that part. But the other, threatening to rape Weasley's mother? And to use a Muggle weapon? He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of it. He wished he could confront his father with this; ask him if it were true.  
  
"Shit!" he muttered, finally lying back to try to get to sleep. It was Christmas morning and he didn't expect the little weasel to hurry over presents and a lavish breakfast, just to visit with him. Especially after he'd insulted her mother the night before. He was, therefore, amazed when she entered the chamber a few minutes later. 


	8. Chapter Seven

A/N: Sorry about the language; I know I seldom use it. But I also know that not all teens talk like I did when I was a kid, so I'm trying for a little more realism. Thanks to everyone who is still reading, and Kat, take a deep breath! I'm almost done with the next chapter, too.  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Ginny was furious as she left the chamber. How dare he say that about her mother! Ginny had seen Malfoy's mother, several times. The woman was beautiful; there was no doubt about that. But it was a cold, impersonal beauty that chilled rather than warmed. She couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation to save her life. And she was absolutely helpless without someone to wait on her.  
  
Ginny's mother was still very attractive, despite her rather full figure and the lines that seven children and constant concern about money had given her. Narcissa Malfoy was at least ten years younger than Molly Weasley, and Ginny bet that, at the same age, her mum was much prettier than Narcissa Malfoy could ever be. Molly Weasley could whip up a fantastic meal with almost nothing. She kept up on current events (even though she did love her gossip), so she could discuss politics, money, or childcare with equal ease. And she could stretch a galleon farther than anyone! If Draco Malfoy thought that just because his mother had a nice face and a slim figure, she was better than Molly Weasley, he was just as stupid, shallow and useless as his brainless mother!  
  
Ginny was so angry, she didn't really pay attention to her surroundings, although she was making her way toward the library. She had suddenly had an idea while she was seething over Malfoy's words. Ginny wanted to look over some of the Hogwarts scrapbooks Madame Pince kept in the archives. Besides, she had again told Ron that she was studying, and he was starting to look suspicious at this excuse. It didn't help that Harry kept making joking comments about this boy or that one, trying to get the name of her 'fellow'. Ginny rolled her eyes. She didn't know what it was about Harry that irritated her so much. Especially as she had been so crazy about him before. She figured it must be because he wasn't really her friend, but he wasn't really family either. She resented that he tried to act like he was one or the other.  
  
Ginny was nearing the library. Down the stairs and round the corner and she'd be there. That was when she noticed that she was being followed. Without slowing her pace, Ginny dropped her book bag. As she paused to pick it up, she glanced behind her and saw Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle moving stealthily up behind her. When they realized they'd been spotted, they gave up stealth and walked boldly up to her. Ginny had picked up her bag, but one of her quills had fallen out. Crabbe stooped quickly to pick it up, but Ginny stepped on it and pulled it out of his reach. She didn't know why she'd done that, but something told her not to let him touch it. It felt like the same thing that had told her Malfoy had set her a trap the first day she'd locked him up. She quickly snatched up the quill and stowed it in her bag. Then she faced the two young men.  
  
"Thanks, anyway," she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. "I'm so clumsy. And thanks again for walking me to class yesterday. Are you headed for the library, too?"  
  
Ginny didn't really wait for an answer, but turned and hurried down the staircase. She didn't want to be alone with these two. These two made her more nervous than Malfoy ever had. She'd caught them following her twice already today, and this made it three times. She wasn't sure whether they suspected she had something to do with Malfoy's disappearance, or whether they had something else in mind, but she definitely felt uncomfortable in their presence.  
  
Goyle fell in on her left side, while Crabbe flanked her on the right. Ginny didn't like this. It felt like they were herding her. And what would happen if, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, they forced her to the right, away from the library? But Crabbe finally spoke.  
  
"Naw," he said lazily. "We were looking to warn you. We think Malfoy's still hanging about. He didn't get on the carriages to Hogsmeade last night, and he missed all his afternoon classes yesterday."  
  
He shot her a look, as though trying to see her reaction. She felt a shocked look come to her face. So they HAD noticed! Crabbe seemed to accept the look as a natural reaction, though.  
  
"Yeah, I thought you might be surprised. We just wanted to warn you. Maybe you shouldn't wander around alone. Greg and me would be happy to walk you to where you're going."  
  
Ginny thought furiously. That wouldn't do at all! The bottom of the stairs was just ahead, and Ginny started pushing to the left. The young men moved left also, and turned toward the library after the last stair. She mentally sighed, then formed her answer.  
  
"That's really nice of you, and I'll keep it in mind. But you know my brother would have a fit if he saw you two walking with me. He'd think you were trying to bully me, or something! So I think I'll have him or Harry walk with me."  
  
They were at the library now, and Ginny was eager to get inside. She looked at the two and felt even more uneasy. They were exchanging a look that wasn't the least bit protective. Goyle looked at Ginny again, eying her hair. She reached up uncomfortably, and found that her hair ribbon had loosened and was ready to fall off. She pulled it off and shoved it into her pocket, feeling a chill at the way both boys watched her actions. She backed to the door of the library, suddenly wondering if it would be closed early for Christmas Eve. Turning the handle, she breathed a sigh of relief as it opened.  
  
"Well, uh, thanks again," she said and quickly entered.  
  
With the library door closed firmly behind her, Ginny closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't even know why she felt she'd just escaped from something bad, but her knees were weak with the sudden release of tension. Finally feeling in control of herself again, she opened her eyes and looked around. The librarian, Madame Pince was behind her desk, giving Ginny a hard look. There were perhaps five or six other students in the library, and Ginny was equally relieved to see that one of them was Seamus Finnegan. She would walk back to Gryffindor with him in case Crabbe and Goyle were still hanging about.  
  
"Hi, Seamus," she said quietly as she slid into the seat opposite him.  
  
Seamus looked up and grinned. He looked behind her, then around the library, then back at her.  
  
"So, where's the mystery fella?" he asked, still grinning.  
  
"Mystery fellow? What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, Ron and Harry've got a bet on who this fella is who's takin' all your free time! I thought I might toddle off to the library and check things out. You're here, but I don't see him. So, who is it?"  
  
Ginny smiled. So Ron and Harry were betting on her boyfriend behind her back? And Seamus was their spy? It was a bit irritating, but it was funny, too. She wondered what they'd all say if they found out the 'mystery fellow' was Draco Malfoy and he was her prisoner, not her boyfriend. Then there would be hell to pay.  
  
"Well, now, Seamus, me lad," Ginny said in a horrible imitation of his Irish accent, "that would be a bit o' kissin' and tellin' now, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Ah, yes, it would, lass," Seamus teased back, thickening his accent. He laid a finger beside his nose and gave her a wink and a nod. "But ye can tell yer Uncle Seamus anythin', don't ye know?"  
  
They both laughed and Seamus finally said, "Fine. It's your business and I won't be pryin'. But," his eyes twinkled, "if you decide to finally tell, make sure you tell me first, so I can win the bet!"  
  
Ginny giggled, drawing a frowning comment from the librarian, and nodded to Seamus. She let her bag drop to the ground and stood. "Be right back," she whispered, heading to the librarian's desk.  
  
Ginny filled out an archive request form and handed it to the stiff librarian. Madame Pince looked it over with a sniff of disapproval, then turned and retrieved the requested volume. Ginny took the large, leather bound book back to Seamus' table and sat with a sigh of relief. It was really heavy! Ginny opened the tome and began to leaf through the pages absently. Occasionally she would study a page intently, sometimes marking it with a scrap of parchment, and then she would continue leafing through the book. Seamus observed her, but said nothing. After several minutes, though, he tapped her arm.  
  
"I don't think he's comin' tonight, love," he said softly.  
  
"Huh? Who?" Ginny asked, confused. Then she remembered. "Oh, him! Well, I was actually waiting for you to leave. I was going to walk back to Gryffindor with you, if that's okay?"  
  
Seamus leaned his head to one side, consideringly. Suddenly his eyes opened wide. "Good Lord, Gin, it's not me, is it?" The mixed surprise and horror in his voice made Ginny laugh. Madame Pince harrumphed and shot them evil looks again.  
  
"Honestly, Seamus, I don't know whether to be amused or insulted! No, it's not you. I know you and Hannah Abbott are going out. But, good grief! Would it be THAT terrible?!"  
  
Seamus looked slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean it that way, Gin. It's just that, the one time I told Ron what a looker you were, he offered to rearrange my face. I happen to like my face the way it is!"  
  
Now Ginny understood. She also understood why most of the Gryffindor males were a bit standoffish with her. She could just kill Ron. He either seemed to ignore her or smother her with over- protectiveness. She looked at Seamus again, seeing that he still looked a bit uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't worry, Seamus. I just wanted to walk back with someone, because Malfoy's goons have been hanging about, and they make me nervous."  
  
Seamus frowned. "Crabbe and Goyle? But I thought—," he paused, thinking. "You're right. They are here, aren't they? Well, if you're really not waiting for your fella, why don't we head back now?"  
  
After gathering their things, Seamus and Ginny left the library. Ginny had the scrapbook tucked safely away in her book bag and would look at it later. Now she just wanted to get back to Gryffindor without incident. Seamus kept up a steady stream of light conversation, mostly about their chances to win the house cup and the upcoming match with Slytherin. Ginny was listening with only half an ear. She thought she heard footsteps behind them, but was never able to see anyone when she looked back. When they were finally turning the last curve before the portrait entry to the Gryffindor Common Room, Ginny caught a glimpse of Gregory Goyle scooting into a doorway before he was cut off from her view. So they HAD been following her! She looked over to her companion, about to say something, but he shook his head slightly. He must have noticed, too.  
  
The portrait of the fat lady asked for the password, and Seamus whispered it. Ginny was glad. She didn't want any Slytherins, especially not Crabbe or Goyle, having access to their dorms. Once inside the Common Room, though, Seamus caught her arm and pulled her to a table away from the few other students still downstairs.  
  
"All right, Ginny, what the hell was that about?" Seamus asked in a concerned half whisper. "What are Malfoy's thugs doing following you about? Are you in some sort of trouble?"  
  
Ginny wondered how to answer that question. Yes, she was certainly in some sort of trouble. The faculty probably frowned on taking and keeping prisoners. But she knew what Seamus was asking. He wanted to know whether Malfoy was the one ordering his goons to bother her. Ginny bit her lower lip nervously, then took a deep breath.  
  
Letting it out in a huff, she sat in the hard chair behind her.  
  
"I don't know, Seamus," she answered honestly. "I have no idea why they're following me. I thought they were trying to protect me from Malfoy, but now I don't think so."  
  
"Protect you from Malfoy? What's that stupid git been doing? He been bothering you?" Seamus' eyebrows had risen almost to his hairline, but now they were lowered over his eyes, making him look quite menacing. Ginny grinned, wondering what Hannah would say if she saw her darling, laughing Irishman looking so fierce.  
  
"When has Malfoy NOT been bothering me? Or Ron, for that matter." Ginny waved a hand as though to minimize the threat of Malfoy's behavior. He wasn't her problem at the moment. Or, at least, he wasn't as big a problem as his thugs were right now. Seamus mulled her answer over.  
  
"I ought to tell Ron," he said finally. He didn't look happy about interfering in family business, but he definitely looked worried.  
  
Ginny put a hand on his arm and looked pleadingly up into his eyes.  
  
"Please, Seamus, let me handle this. Look," she said, trying to appear calm. "Malfoy was upset because I earned eighty points for Gryffindor in Magical Healing on Thursday. He only got thirty-five points. And none of the other Slytherins got anything. I guess he felt like I embarrassed him. Anyway, after class, Crabbe and Goyle walked me to my next class and Malfoy couldn't pick on me." It was all true, she told herself, just not quite in the correct order. She hurried on, forestalling any argument on his part. "I just got the feeling they weren't doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. But, if they're still bothering me in a few days, I'll tell Ron myself. All right?"  
  
Seamus was now staring at her in disbelief. "You're the one who got those points? Wow! That's great!"  
  
He let out a whoop and lifted Ginny out of her chair and off her feet, spinning her around the room. Ron and Harry, who had just entered the Common Room from the dorms looked on in amazement.  
  
"Hey!" Seamus shouted at them, putting Ginny down and dragging her over to them. "Here's the hero! Our Ginny is the one who earned those points!"  
  
Ron was smiling, but he leveled a hard look at where Seamus was still holding onto Ginny's arm. Seamus quickly released her. Harry was smiling too, but his smile seemed a bit forced. Ginny frowned slightly at him, wondering what was eating him. He certainly didn't look very happy about her accomplishment. She shrugged it off, though, when Ron grabbed her and hugged her, too. Ginny couldn't help smiling at the obvious approval in his expression.  
  
Ron dragged Ginny, with Harry and Seamus trailing along after, to one of the comfortable couches around the fireplace. He made her sit, and then settled himself. Then he demanded she tell them what had happened. Ginny gave them a brief account of the quiz the medic had given them, and Ron and Seamus hooted over her version of the Slytherins' general stupidity. When she finished, Ron was positively beaming at her.  
  
"Now if only bloody Malfoy could have fallen into a pit or something, we would have had another thirty points! Way to go, Gin!"  
  
Ginny glanced at Seamus, still wondering if he was going to tell Ron about Crabbe and Goyle. He caught her eye and gave her a small nod and thumbs up. She sighed quietly with relief. He wasn't going to say anything. Grinning, Ginny stood.  
  
"Well," she said, hefting her book bag to her shoulder, "I'm off to bed. G'night!"  
  
Ron and Seamus protested at first, but when she said she wanted to study ahead on the new textbook, they waved her away with their collective blessings. When she finally got to her room, Ginny quickly changed into her pajamas and crawled into the bed. She dragged out the heavy scrapbook she'd checked out and started looking through it again. There were several pictures that she liked, but she finally found what she was looking for near the back of the book. She stared at the picture, fingers lightly touching the edges.  
  
The caption under the picture read: Arthur Weasley and Molly Donovan; King and Queen of the Graduation Ball.  
  
The black and white picture showed a very svelte Molly in dark, form- fitting dress robes. Her fiery, riotous mass of curls had been pulled into a high ponytail and allowed to cascade down her neck and back, a tendril or two left free to frame her face. Arthur, looking handsome and proud in a nice set of men's dress robes, was looking at her with the most ardent expression Ginny had ever seen. Even as she watched, the Molly in the photograph raised a hand to the small tiara she wore, straightening it. Then she reached for Arthur and planted a firm, passionate kiss on his mouth.  
  
Ginny blushed as she watched. It was obvious they were deeply in love. Ginny concentrated on her mother's face. Now that she looked, she saw that Molly was not beautiful. Her features were not regular enough for classic beauty. But she was lovely, and full of life and laughter. There was something alluring in her eyes, her expression, the way she held her mouth. Ginny could believe that Lucius Malfoy would find Molly Donovan worth wedding. And she knew that if the two were side by side, Narcissa Malfoy, even with her slim figure and classic looks, would be a pale shadow next to Ginny's mum.  
  
Ginny marked the page and closed the book. She had also seen several pictures of Lucius Malfoy, but they had only chilled her. He looked similar to his son, but Ginny could also see several differences. Lucius' hair seemed thicker and coarser, his brows heavier and his nose a bit broader. Draco must have gotten the fine hair, thin brows and long, slender nose from his mother. His frame was a bit more slender than his father's, too. According to the photo captions in the scrapbook, Lucius Malfoy had been a Beater on the Slytherin team. Draco was a classic Seeker. And, even at seventeen or eighteen, Lucius Malfoy's face had been set into hard lines of cruelty. In almost every picture, Lucius' face seemed set in a permanent sneer. Draco Malfoy sneered a lot, it was true, but his face was not yet so firmly marked, and, now that Ginny thought about it, he much more often would frown or scowl, than sneer. He seemed dissatisfied more often than smugly superior. Except when he was looking at her, she added.  
  
Ginny put the book on her bedside table, extinguished the lights and lay down. She tried not to think about her earlier conversation with Malfoy, but couldn't help it. She hadn't planned to tell him anything about her mother and his father. She knew he wouldn't believe it, and it only made her look like a vindictive, lying harpy. But once she'd started, she couldn't seem to stop herself.  
  
Ginny sighed, wondering what she was going to do about Malfoy. She couldn't keep him locked up forever. She wasn't sure she could keep him locked up another day. For one thing, she wasn't sure how much longer she could sneak around carrying meals to him without getting caught. Also, he had other sanitation needs to take care of besides urinating, and Ginny was sure he hadn't done so since he'd been locked up. She hadn't considered that aspect. She really had to let him go, and soon. Oh, he was mean and cruel and would make the rest of her school year miserable, she was sure. But that didn't give Ginny the right to hold him prisoner. She saw that now.  
  
She had thought she might be able to reason with him, that maybe they could work something out. She'd hoped to find out what it was about her that set him off, so she could prevent it from happening again. But every time she spoke to him, she felt stupid and weak and insignificant. She asked him a question and he ignored it, or changed the subject, or tried to provoke a fight. Good grief, he'd even tried sexual innuendo! He must be desperate to get out if he was trying to seduce her into coming nearer! And when he used that damned voice manipulation, she was nearly done for.  
  
Ginny rolled over onto her side, punching the pillow as though it were Malfoy's long, perfect nose. She knew he was a lying, brutal, dangerous young man. But when he looked at her the way he had done earlier—as though she was beautiful—well, then her stupid brain wanted to shut down and allow her body to go on automatic. She wanted to move closer and see if he could actually be trusted not to try to hurt her. Then she would come to her senses and move away again.  
  
The look in his eyes when she'd shown him the bruises he'd left had almost undone her. He looked horrified, shocked and ashamed. Ginny hadn't even realized he could actually manage those expressions. But it had to be a sham. He didn't give a damn about her, and was probably shocked and horrified that she still had evidence against him. Still, she'd almost reached out for the hand he'd extended to her, wanting him to comfort her and reassure her that he hadn't meant to hurt her. She rolled her eyes at her own naiveté. The thought of Draco Malfoy actually offering her comfort was ludicrous.  
  
That was beside the point, she told herself firmly. She still hadn't decided what to do about him. She could try sneaking in late and just removing the spells. If she left the rusty key on the floor inside the cell, he would probably get the idea. But Malfoy was much sneakier than she could ever be. She didn't like the idea of him pretending to be asleep while she removed the spells. Then she might find his hands around her throat again, with even less chance of escaping than the first time. Ginny shuddered. Perhaps she could open the door and cover him with her wand until he was well away from her. But that would mean she would have to follow him to a more inhabited area of the castle to be sure he didn't try to ambush her again. She just couldn't think of any way to free him and remain safe herself. Sighing, she rolled over again, trying to block out her thoughts. Finally, she fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Ginny woke early the following morning. She sat up in bed and stretched. She was no closer to finding a solution for Malfoy than she had been the night before, but she felt more relaxed after a decent night's sleep. There was no reason to get up and she almost pulled the blankets back over her head when she remembered that it was Christmas morning! Flinging the blankets off, she jumped out of bed and saw the small pile of presents at the foot of the bed! With a small squeal of excitement, she knelt in front of them and touched them gently. There were so very many, she thought. She regretted that Ariel wasn't here to share this morning with. Ron was in his own dorm, of course, but he and Harry would be opening presents together and she was still a bit upset with the way Harry had been behaving lately.  
  
Ginny lifted all the presents onto the bed and sat in front of them, dragging the blankets over her lap. She snuggled into the warmth of the blankets and reached for a present. It was a small box, prettily wrapped and it was from Hermione. Ginny opened it eagerly, and gasped in surprise at the tiny, delicate glass bottle inside. She opened the bottle gingerly and sniffed. Essence of lavender! Ginny's favorite fragrance! And just a tiny bit would last all day! She put the stopper back on the bottle and set it aside. The next present was from Ron. Ginny grinned, expecting the usual big-brother gift of toed socks or a stuffed animal. Instead, she found a bottle matching the one Hermione had given her. It was larger, though, and contained lavender hand cream! Obviously Ron had had help with this present, but it was wonderful! Ginny vowed to give Ron a big hug as soon as she saw him. The next present was from Ariel. Ginny thought of the present she got her best friend. They'd seen a book of blank pages at the small Flourish and Blotts outlet in Hogsmeade that Ariel had practically drooled over. Ginny didn't blame her. The book had been leather bound, in a soft creamy beige colour. The pages were rich, thick vellum that Ariel, who loved to write poetry and stories, had immediately fallen in love with. Ginny sent home for the last of her summer savings and had bought it for her. She hoped Ariel would enjoy the gift.  
  
Ginny carefully removed the wrapping from her present. Then she gasped. Inside the festively wrapped box, nestled in gold and silver tissue paper, was a pair of ankle high, black bicorn leather high-heeled boots. The leather was as soft as satin, but more durable than regular cow leather. Ginny had seen the boots months ago and had secretly pined for them, knowing she could never afford them. They cost at least as much as the book she'd gotten for Ariel. Ginny touched the soft boots reverently, already trying to form her thanks to Ariel when she sent her daily owl later.  
  
The boots were so wonderful, Ginny almost couldn't continue. She set them aside carefully and kept looking at them, even as her hands pulled another present from the small pile. The next was a large box from her mum. Ginny shook it and smiled. Another jumper, no doubt. But it felt rather heavier than normal. She slipped off the ribbon and opened the box, and then received her second shock of the morning. Inside was a knitted sweater, but not like any jumper she'd ever had before. This had a cowl neck and was long. When Ginny held it up, she saw that it would easily come down to her knees. The long sleeves were full but ended in ribbed cuffs, as did the bottom hem. It was a deep, rich burgundy colour and there were mittens to match. Ginny hugged the garment tightly. It was without doubt the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned. She thought quickly. The sweater would go perfectly with the skinny black jeans she never wore. And the boots would complete the outfit!  
  
Then Ginny's joy faded a bit. She had no one to wear the outfit for. Ron wouldn't notice, and she didn't care whether anyone else in Gryffindor noticed or not. So what, she thought suddenly. She'd wear it anyway. At least she could feel smart and stylish for one day in her life. That issue decided, Ginny quickly opened the rest of her presents. They were from her older brothers, and consisted of writing paper from Bill, a soft hat and muffler matching her new sweater from Charlie, suspiciously innocent- looking chocolates from Fred and George, and a book on succeeding in professional Quidditch for women, from Percy. The final present was the usual box of fudge from her mum, along with a small box containing two galleons from her dad.  
  
Ginny smiled as she looked at her small treasure trove. She wanted to change into her new outfit right away, but no one was up yet, and breakfast wouldn't be served for another hour or so. Ginny fretted for a few minutes when her eye fell on the scrapbook she'd checked out last night. She brightened. There was one person she could bother right now, she thought. She didn't expect him to notice her outfit, but she could still put it on and show it off, even if he didn't comment. Not that she cared whether he noticed or not, she hastily told herself. But first, she needed a shower. She gathered her things and hurried to the shower room. As she passed one of the many deep set windows along the corridor to the bathroom she saw that it had snowed in the night. Snow! She loved he snow! Then a deliciously wicked thought entered her head. She tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn't go. Ginny showered, dried her hair, added a touch of the lavender fragrance, and changed into her new clothes.  
  
She couldn't believe her reflection. The sweater hugged her slender frame, making her appear taller and curvier. The black jeans and small boots were perfect. Ginny fluffed her curls, letting them bounce around her face. She emptied out her book bag, putting only the scrapbook back in. She donned her robe and threw her heavy black cloak around her shoulders. Pulling on the mittens, Ginny was finally ready. She looked around her room once more, and added the box of homemade fudge to the bag. Then she left the room.  
  
Ginny hurried down the stairs, carefully looking out for either Crabbe or Goyle. She was up so early, though, she didn't see anyone about. She opened the main castle entrance and scooted out the door for a moment. Then she was back in and climbing the steps toward the Magical Healing wing. A few minutes later, Ginny carefully opened the door to the hidden chamber, hoping to catch Malfoy off guard. He seemed to have a built in clock. He was always awake and always seemed to know about what time it was whenever she came in. Ginny peeked around the door, but saw with mild disappointment that he was staring right at her. 


	9. Chapter Eight

A/N: These really aren't supposed to be cliffies, and if I were a faster writer, you would just go from chapter to chapter in one easy movement. But they do seem like the most logical place to end the chapters, so I'll just try to finish this thing and not leave you hanging. Again, thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, and threatening! K  
  
  
  
Draco heard the lock on the door snick open and debated whether or not to pretend that he was still asleep. But before he had a chance, Weasley's face appeared in the doorway, peering at him questioningly. She had an odd look on her face, almost playful. He sat up, looking from her face, which was flushed, to the hands she held carefully behind her back, to the snow dusting the bottom of her cloak. Snow? It had snowed for Christmas and he was missing it. He felt a quick stab of irritation for everything he was missing because of Weasley. Any remorse he'd felt earlier was washed away in the surge of anger. She was up to something, no doubt. And that something would be at his expense. So this was it. She was finally going to take her revenge! Draco cursed under his breath as he got quickly to his feet. Well, he told himself, whatever it was, he wasn't going to take it sitting down!  
  
Ginny gave him an impish little grin, almost squirming with anticipation. She just needed to get the dratted door closed, then she would pelt him with the snowballs she'd brought up! Finally pulling the door closed behind her, she focused on Malfoy's face. Then she paused. He was standing in the middle of his cell, staring at her warily. He knew she was up to something, and was trying to get ready for it, it seemed. Let him, she thought. She knew her aim was accurate, and he didn't have anywhere to run! Then it hit her. He had nowhere to run. He wasn't a boyfriend or a mate to play winter games with. Draco Malfoy was her prisoner! It would be unfair to attack him when he couldn't hit back.  
  
Ginny's shoulders slumped and she looked away, ashamed of herself. She'd wanted someone to talk to, to keep her company until everyone else awoke, even to share the Christmas snow with, and had unfairly assumed that it was okay to come bother Malfoy. She almost just turned and left, but Malfoy stopped her.  
  
"Well, Weasley," he sneered softly. "Lost your nerve? You were going to do something, weren't you? Maybe try to drown me again? Or maybe you wanted to throw something more lethal at me this time?"  
  
Ginny glanced up into his arrogant face, her temper flaring at his tone of voice. She didn't mind the words; they were true enough. But the way he said it was just so irritating! She pulled her hands from behind her back.  
  
"It snowed, Malfoy," Ginny gritted through her teeth. "I was going to throw these at you. But, then I remembered that it isn't fair to attack an unarmed man. Someone who is basically," she paused, as close to sneering as she could manage at the moment, "at my mercy!"  
  
Ginny expected a show of anger, but was surprised when Malfoy began to howl with laughter! He pointed at her, trying to say something, but couldn't. He just doubled over and laughed harder. Oh, gods, this was rich. He'd expected an attack and she was threatening him with slushy lumps of snow! She was absolutely deranged! He'd choked her, attacked her, insulted her and the best she could manage was SNOWBALLS! He tried to control himself, but when he looked at the outraged expression on her face he went off into another fit of laughter.  
  
Ginny felt more stupid than ever. Of course he was laughing. She must seem like an imbecile to him. She looked at the two dripping mounds of snow in her hands, wondering what to do with them. All her joy in the day was melting away as quickly as the snow on the hem of her cloak. And she wished the stupid git would stop laughing. Ginny had just decided to toss the snow into the fire when Malfoy finally choked out a question.  
  
"What-happened-Weasley?" he laughed. "Afraid you'd-miss?" Then he went off again. Ginny glared at him.  
  
"If I wanted to hit you, Malfoy," she snapped, "make no mistake. I would!"  
  
Draco's laughter dried up immediately. That sounded like a threat! He was still smirking, though. "Weasley, you couldn't hit the side of the castle at ten paces," he sneered.  
  
But the words weren't even out of his mouth when Ginny hauled her arm back and let fly with one of the snowballs. It flew straight and true, through the bars, directly at his face.  
  
Too late, Draco remembered that this girl had one of the highest scoring records in Hogwarts Quidditch history. Her aim was deadly. Draco saw the snowball coming, but barely had time to react. He lifted his left hand and caught it just an inch from his nose. Or, rather, he would have caught it if it hadn't exploded into a thousand small, wet, icy chunks as it slammed into his palm. Even so, the impact drove his hand back into his face, causing a painful blow to the nose Ginny had so wanted to break the night before. Water and ice pelted his hair and neck, and Draco stumbled back a step, surprised. That was one hell of a throw.  
  
When Ginny realized what she'd done, she put her hand to her mouth, ashamed and horrified. She couldn't help a small tug of satisfaction when the missile hit its target dead-on, but it was a mean, horrible thing to do! She was, therefore, very surprised to hear Malfoy laugh again! She looked at him, expecting to see him smirking at her, but he was just grinning! Had she missed something?  
  
"Very nice, little weasel," he said. "Once again, I didn't know you had it in you. But your Weasley honor seems to have gone by the wayside. What happened to not attacking an unarmed man?"  
  
Ginny blushed furiously. He wasn't sneering at her. In fact, the admiration in his voice was what had caused her blushing. But he was right. She had unfairly attacked. She looked down again, then grinned. She moved suddenly to the bars of the cell, easily within his grasp. Extending her left hand, she looked up at him.  
  
"I have another, if you want to get even?"  
  
Draco looked from her hand to her face, not even noticing that she was standing close enough for him to grab her. She was unbelievable. He had provoked her and she had (very reasonably, in Draco's opinion) retaliated. Now she was offering to give him a chance to hit her back? He looked more closely at her face, taking in the bright eyes, the small, playful smile, the flush on her cheeks, and the tousled, wind blown hair. She looked as though she just got out of bed. Draco swallowed. No, she looked like she had just left her lover's arms. He moved forward, reaching for the hand she held out. The sudden cold of the snow brought him out of the daze he seemed to have fallen in. He frowned at the snowball he was holding, ready to drop it and reach for her again, but she had backed away. She was standing near the door, facing him.  
  
"Right, then, Malfoy, give it your best shot!" she said, still smiling, though somewhat stiffly now.  
  
Draco turned his frown to her. Was she demented? Was she really standing there waiting for him to throw the damned slush ball at her? With a sound of disgust, he tossed it into the fireplace, where it sizzled and hissed and steamed.  
  
Ginny let out the breath she'd been holding. Despite her show of bravado, she was a bit afraid that Malfoy might actually hurl the thing at her with all his strength. And she knew she didn't have his Seeker's quick reactions. If he aimed at her face, she would have a face full of snow. But, now she was at a loss. She had come in to show off her new Christmas outfit, but that was as ludicrous an idea as having a snowball fight. She glanced down at her bag, remembering the scrapbook. That seemed stupid, too. Malfoy wouldn't care that her mother had been a beautiful, alluring young woman. He would probably just find something else to insult her with. Stripping off the sodden mittens, Ginny stuffed them absently into her pockets and turned to the door.  
  
"Er, I'm sorry about the mess, uh, and the snow, and bothering you. I'll bring some breakfast when I come back."  
  
"Wait, Weasley," he said suddenly. She paused, giving him a questioning look. Damn, he thought. He wanted her to stay, but didn't want to ask. He didn't want her to think he wanted her company. It was just to relieve the boredom, that was all. Thinking quickly, he said, "Was that the only reason you came? To throw a damned snowball at me?"  
  
He hadn't meant to sound so forlorn, but it was out already and he couldn't take it back. Besides, it seemed to work. She looked doubtful, but she moved away from the door.  
  
"Well, actually, I had something to show you," she said quietly.  
  
Ginny unslung the book bag and dropped it on the floor. She quickly removed her cloak and spread it out so the hem would dry. The room was uncomfortably warm, so she removed her robe as well. Be honest, she chided herself. She wanted to show off her new outfit, and that was all! Ginny finally lifted the book bag again and forced herself to look at Malfoy. She tried to brace herself for just about any reaction from none at all to ridicule, but she wasn't prepared for the reaction she got.  
  
Draco watched her remove the cloak and silently willed her to remove the robe as well. He was surprised as hell, though, when she did exactly that. And he felt he'd received his Christmas present when he saw how she was dressed. He swallowed again, watching the smooth line of her slender waist and rounded hip as she moved to fold her robe. The sweater was a rich colour that brought out the fiery highlights in her short curls. The black jeans and tiny boots made her legs look longer. Her movements in the flickering firelight were tantalizing. Then she turned toward him. The full effect was amazing. She was not beautiful, but she was absolutely stunning! Her expression, however, was uncertain and it struck Draco that she was waiting for his reaction! She was looking for his approval, as impossible as it sounded! She stood for a second longer, trying to read his face. Damn, he'd better react then, instead of staring at her like a brainless idiot.  
  
Ginny watched as Draco looked her up and down. The look in his eyes made Ginny slightly breathless. It was admiring, yes, but it was more than that. His eyes seemed to burn right into her. Then the look was gone. He smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up.  
  
"Very nice, Weasley. Can I flatter myself that you dressed for my benefit? Is this my Christmas present?"  
  
Ginny grinned. He'd caught her. She was shamelessly fishing for approval and he knew it. Oh, well, she thought. At least she knew she looked all right.  
  
"Well," she answered honestly, "I got up before everyone else and opened my presents."  
  
Moving toward the bars, she indicated her sweater and boots. "They looked so good, I wanted to try them on but no one else was up except you. I'm really sorry about bothering you, though," she added sweetly and insincerely.  
  
Draco had to grin at the insincerity of her last statement. She didn't have anyone else to show off to, so why not come see him? He couldn't really stop her, could he? Not that he minded. Somehow he was glad to be the first one to see her in her holiday finery. He was still watching her as she lifted one of the extra pillows she'd left him and tossed it down at her feet. She sat, not even a foot from the bars, right in front of him.  
  
Ginny looked up, a bit surprised at the grin on Malfoy's face. She knew she was taking a terrible risk, but she needed to resolve her problems with Malfoy, and maybe, just maybe, he might not want to hurt her.  
  
Draco felt Weasley's look and felt soiled and uncomfortable next to her. He wanted to move away so she wouldn't smell his unwashed body or see the filth on his clothes. But her eyes were on his face and he felt pulled to her. He sat. She smiled at him, as though this were just a normal, everyday occurrence. He shifted and moved just a bit closer. She did the same, until her shoulder was almost leaning against one of the bars.  
  
Now would be the perfect time to grab her wand, a voice in his head hissed. Draco lifted a hand toward her, but stopped. He couldn't. Besides, he told the voice, she wasn't wearing her robe and he doubted she carried her wand in a pants pocket. Then she pulled a heavy book from her bag and opened it, telling him she'd found it in the library last night. He made himself concentrate on her words.  
  
"I was upset when I left here last night," she was saying. He didn't blame her. He'd just called her mother a fat cow or something like that. "So I wanted to show you that my mother is an amazing woman! I know it doesn't matter to you, but it does to me."  
  
Her voice was quiet and hurt. Again, Draco couldn't blame her. But he'd been pretty upset, too. No one wanted to be told his father was a brutal, homicidal maniac, even if he didn't believe it! She held the book out to him, but he refused to take it.  
  
"If you must show me, Weasley, then show me. But don't expect me to go looking myself," he growled at her.  
  
Ginny sighed and turned slightly so she could hold the book on her lap while Malfoy looked at the pictures. She opened the book and flipped to the first picture of her mother. It was small and her mother was one of several girls, but she was easily the most vivacious. She stood out in the crowd. The next picture showed her mother and father in the Quidditch stands, cheering. After several pages, Ginny turned to the Graduation Ball picture. She felt a sting of tears when she saw her mother kiss her father again, wondering what Malfoy was making of this. She thought she had her answer, though, when he whispered, "Beautiful!" into her ear.  
  
Draco barely glanced at Weasley's mum. Then he stared. This was not, could not be the dumpy, faded housewife he remembered seeing a few years ago. Although not slim, by any means, she had the kind of body boys would go mad for. But it was more than that. There was something in the lips, the eyes and even the body movement that was innately SEXY. He couldn't believe he was even thinking that word while looking at Molly Weasley. And he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the same traits, though not nearly as pronounced, in her daughter. As Weasley flipped the pages, Draco saw that Weasley must have got her build from her father. He was slender (well, skinny was more like it) but rather taller than his daughter would ever be. And they both had the same determined facial expressions. Draco thought with a sudden shock that this man might actually be dangerous if a loved one was threatened. And he didn't look like the pathetic loser that Draco's father always insisted he was. Another unpleasant thought crept into Draco's head. How much of the Weasleys' money problems had to do, not with them being unable to handle money, but with malicious intervention from someone who had plenty of money. He didn't like this thought any better than some of others Weasley had planted in his brain. Pushing it away, he turned to glare at Weasley. Instead, he watched as she looked at her parents. The soft, loving gaze she gave them was incredible. He wondered what it would be like to feel that gaze himself, and know that it was for him, alone. He leaned in closer, catching a whiff of her light fragrance. His hand reached up to capture one of the shining curls, and he whispered, "Beautiful," before catching himself and pulling his hand back.  
  
Smiling, Ginny said, "She is, isn't she?"  
  
Draco looked quickly away and moved back a few inches. She had thought he was talking about her mum and he'd better just leave it that way. This girl was dangerous. She had him questioning himself, questioning his beliefs and doubting his own father. And he felt a strong, uncharacteristic attraction to her that made him even more uncomfortable. He never let anyone get under his skin, but Virginia Weasley had done so without even trying.  
  
When Malfoy didn't answer, Ginny glanced at him. He was frowning at her again and she wondered what she'd done now. With a sigh, she closed the book and set it aside. Then she noticed the untouched dinner she'd brought last night.  
  
"Well, that explains it," she muttered quietly.  
  
"Explains what, little weasel?" Draco had moved away, but he couldn't stop himself from staring at her. He wanted to move back to her side, but forced himself to stay put. She had far too much hold over him as it was, without tempting himself by moving closer.  
  
Ginny clicked her tongue at him, wishing he would stop using that insulting name. She pointed at the tray of cold food.  
  
"You must be faint with hunger, Malfoy. No wonder you didn't try to throttle me or smack me with the snowball. You're just too weak right now." She reached behind her for the book bag she'd set aside, shaking her head at his stubbornness.  
  
Draco had started to chuckle at the prim sounding voice she was using, but almost choked on it when her sweater pulled tight across her small bust as she reached. Small she might be, but perfectly formed to make a young man itch to touch her! What was wrong with the fellows in Gryffindor, anyway? Were they ALL as blind as Potter?  
  
Surely one of them would have noticed this girl before? Surely HE should have noticed her before, but he'd been blinded by his obsessive hatred. Well, he was noticing now, and he didn't like it a bit! He had to get away from her so he could think clearly. But he couldn't seem to make himself move.  
  
Ginny turned back, wondering at the strange expression on Malfoy's face. She shrugged, then fished out the box of fudge.  
  
"All right, Malfoy," she said sternly. "You're going to eat this even if I have to force feed you! And if you feel like complaining, just tell yourself it's your Christmas present!"  
  
Draco glanced at the box, completely uninterested in its contents. He was more interested in how her mouth suddenly looked pouty and stubborn. When she opened the box, though, he knew he was done for. Fudge! His weakness for sweets was the joke of the Slytherin Common Room. And this fudge looked dark and rich; exactly the kind he used to gorge on as a young child. His stomach rumbled as he watched her slender fingers lifting a piece of fudge from the box. But it seemed to droop and slide away from her grip.  
  
"Oh, no!" Ginny cried. "I left it too close to the fire! It's all melted!"  
  
She lifted her hand to show him the soft, gooey mess that stuck to her thumb and forefinger. She froze when he reached out and took her wrist.  
  
"It still looks delicious to me," he breathed as he pulled her fingers to his lips. Lord, he must be insane! Just thinking about what he was about to do was making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to let her go, to move away from her clean smell and the soft, dazed expression in her eyes, but he couldn't. Then, softly, slowly, he took her forefinger into his mouth and licked it clean. He watched her eyes half close and her lips tremble as he did the same to her thumb. When he finished, he took her hand in both of his and idly played with her fingers. Draco was breathing hard and trying to get a hold of himself.  
  
Ginny couldn't move. She couldn't even look away. She'd been stunned when she realized what he was going to do, but the first touch of his lips sent a surge of heat up her arm and through her body. Her body seemed to have gone limp, and she felt herself lean in closer, dangerously close. When he finally finished, she still couldn't pull her hand away. Instead, she studied Malfoy's face. She saw that he had a fine network of small scars along his jaw and up to the temple. His eyes were not cold gray as she'd often thought, but had flecks of green and blue in them as well. And they weren't at all cold at the moment. His lashes were much thicker than she'd thought, and just a shade darker than his hair and eyebrows. She also noticed something else. He had a beard! Well, not a beard, but a three- day's growth of stubble from not shaving! She'd never thought of that before. It seemed so odd! Without even thinking about it, Ginny lifted her hand to his face, lightly touching the bristles along his chin and jaw. She rubbed against the grain with the back of her hand and then stroked with her fingertips.  
  
"It's so soft," she whispered in wonder. She'd never touched a boy's face like this before. Well, she'd touched other boys, while kissing, but never like this. It was so sensual, so intimate! There was a smudge of fudge on his lower lip and she wondered what he would do if she leaned forward and licked it off. He'd probably think she'd gone insane, but the urge to do it was almost irresistible. He's a Malfoy, she kept telling herself. He hates me and I hate him! That didn't matter at the moment, though. Especially when he lifted a hand to her neck to gently pull her closer.  
  
Draco froze at her touch. He'd thought touching her, licking the smooth, rich chocolate from her strong fingers, and watching her dazed expression was torture. Then she reached up and touched him. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and trying to haul her through the bars and into his arms. Her breathy whisper was agony. She's-A-Weasley, he kept telling himself. It didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter but keeping her here, close to him, caressing his face. He leaned in closer, his face only an inch from hers. One hand slid around her neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at her nape. She closed her eyes dreamily, leaning toward him.  
  
And smacked her cheek right into an iron bar. Ginny's eyes snapped open and she pulled back sharply. Malfoy was still holding onto her, but the soft, sexy look on his face hardened into a typical smirk. Oh, no, she thought wretchedly. He hadn't meant it. The soft looks and caresses were nothing more than a prank.  
  
"You, um, must have mistaken me for someone else," she said quietly. "I'm Ginny Weasley, remember? If just bumping into me on the train made you want to burn your robes, you'll no doubt want to disinfect yourself after this!"  
  
She felt his hand drop away from her neck and she got shakily to her feet, wishing she could just sink into the ground. Without even trying very hard, Malfoy had her practically throwing herself at him.  
  
Draco had seen the horror in her face when she realized how close she'd come to kissing him. What did he expect? But when he'd been holding her, something inside him had ripped open, leaving an aching hole that only she could mend. He'd wanted her to mend it, too. He'd wanted her soft mouth on his, her strong hands on his body. So, when he'd seen her reaction, all the wanting had turned bitter and he'd wanted only to hurt her for making him weak.  
  
"Of course I remember who you are," he sneered, his gut twisting with anger and frustration. "But the mistake wasn't on my part. You didn't want to pollute yourself with a lying, murderous, cheating, hypocrite, isn't that right, little weasel?"  
  
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, turning back to him, fists clenched. She really would just storm into the cell and beat the holy crap out of him if he called her that again!  
  
"Do you expect me to call you 'Ginny'?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why do you call yourself that stupid, little-girl name? You may fool everyone else with your sweet, innocent act, but you don't fool me anymore, little weasel."  
  
Ginny marched up to where she'd left her robe. She fished her wand from the pocket and turned back to face Malfoy. She lifted the wand.  
  
"What are you up to, Weasley?" Draco demanded. Her face was set in hard, angry lines. He was slightly nervous at having an enraged female pointing her wand at him.  
  
"I'm going to open that cell and come in there and pound your arrogant, hateful face into the ground!" she gritted, removing the spells from the door. "And then, maybe the next time you have some stupid, little girl wrapped around your finger, you'll think twice about trying to hurt her!"  
  
She turned back to the robe and began looking through the pockets again. With an oath, she threw it aside and searched her cloak pockets.  
  
"Damn!" she hissed. The key wasn't there. Then she remembered she'd left it in the pocket of the robe she'd worn last night. Just her luck.  
  
Draco watched her, not believing what he'd just heard. She'd threatened to pound his face into the ground, but that wasn't what held his attention. He had HER wrapped around his finger? She couldn't have meant that. If so, she would have seen how it had hurt when she'd pulled away from him as though disgusted.  
  
Ginny threw her robe on and put the wand away.  
  
"I'll be back, Malfoy," she hissed. "I've got to get the key to the lock. I might be delayed if your goons are still following me, but I will be back!"  
  
Draco watched as she pulled her robe closed and fastened it. His goons? Crabbe and Goyle? But they had gone home for the holiday break, hadn't they?  
  
"Weasley!" he called, a sick feeling settling in his gut. "Wait, stop!"  
  
Ginny hurried to the door, wanting to leave before he could say or do something else to hurt her. The very real concern in his voice stopped her. Don't be stupid, she told herself. He could manipulate his voice just about any way he wanted. She looked cautiously at him.  
  
Draco was gripping the bars tightly, wishing he could just pull them apart. He saw the hurt and wariness on her face and his stomach churned again. But he didn't have time to try to comfort her.  
  
"What do you mean, my goons? Do you mean Crabbe and Goyle are still here at Hogwarts?"  
  
Ginny frowned at him. Why wouldn't he know that? Wouldn't he know that they were staying here for the break?  
  
"Yes," she answered impatiently. "Of course they are. Their names were on the list to stay." Or were they? Ginny had never looked for their names, just Malfoy's. And even Seamus had seemed surprised that they were still here, she remembered. Her stomach lurched. Had they stayed on purpose?  
  
Draco swore under his breath. Then he looked at her again. "Weasley, where's my wand? Give it to me!"  
  
"Your wand? What do you—,"  
  
He cut her off sharply. "If you think you're going out there with those two maniacs loose, think again. Give me my wand so I can get out of here!"  
  
"But, the lock needs a key! I know, I tested it before I put you in here! It's charmed against lock breaking spells."  
  
Ginny was starting to feel scared, but couldn't help wondering if Malfoy was just bluffing. Why would Crabbe and Goyle want her other than to find Malfoy?  
  
"Look, Malfoy," she said, forgetting her anger and trying to calm herself. "I'm just going to run back to Gryffindor and get the key. I was going to let you out anyway."  
  
She turned back to the door, opened it quickly and slipped through even as Draco was yelling at her to wait. 


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9  
  
Ginny stood with her back to the door. She shivered slightly, wondering if Malfoy had somehow used his voice manipulation on her to make her this nervous. She didn't trust him, but he'd looked so worried. What possible reason could he have to make him think Crabbe and Goyle meant her harm? Did he think she might be able to lure them away from his influence? She shook her head. That didn't make any sense at all. She really didn't think he would care one way or the other. He'd already told her he didn't care about friends, but she wasn't convinced that he was that hard-hearted yet. What did he know? With another chill, Ginny remembered how uncomfortable the pair had made her last night. Maybe she should just go back inside and give him his wand. She knew she would feel safer with someone to walk with, but did Malfoy qualify as a protector?  
  
Ginny finally decided to just be careful returning to Gryffindor. After what had just happened, she didn't trust herself around Malfoy any more than she trusted him not to attack her as soon as he was free. She would just have to go back to her House and see who was about. If anyone was up, she'd have to spend a few minutes visiting. She was sure Ron would be suspicious if she didn't stick around to admire presents and show off what she'd gotten. Then, when everyone was going down to breakfast, she'd be able to sneak back here, toss Malfoy the key and run like hell! Looking carefully both ways, Ginny headed back to her Common Room.  
  
Damn her! Damn her to hell! Draco paced back and forth, cursing Weasley and feeling powerless. If Crabbe and Goyle stayed behind, they must have contacted their fathers to inform them that they were ready to take their hostage. And he already knew who the hostage would be.  
  
He wondered why he cared. She was just a Weasley, one of the poor, pathetic pack he'd always hated. A small, hateful voice whispered that if she were taken before he was set free, he might rot here. Draco listened to this voice, as it was the one he usually listened to. But then he pushed the voice away. As impossible as it seemed, he didn't give a damn about that. He was afraid for Weasley; it was as simple as that. He returned to the door, examining the lock. It was an old padlock attached to a fairly new chain. Despite being old, though, the lock looked strong and solid. The chain was wrapped around the bars to keep the door closed. With the locking spells, he hadn't been able to open the door at all. But the spells were gone and he found he could push the door open to the limit of the chain. It was only about three or four inches, not nearly enough for him to slip through.  
  
Draco cursed again and raked his fingers through his filthy hair. Damn her for everything that had happened these last few days. He should have been home, sitting comfortably by a fire, opening his presents. His father, of course, would be out and about, and Draco would be enjoying a rare few minutes with his mother. She would be relaxed for once, not on edge as she always was with his father around. Draco sighed. His mother was beautiful, as he'd said. But he wondered what it was like to have a mother who was also strong, vocal, and intelligent. He loved the woman dearly, but she was absolutely hopeless without someone to take care of her. She was not very smart or brave, she didn't play games, and she seldom spoke. But he missed her all the same and always felt at peace in her presence.  
  
And he would have been there if Weasley hadn't chosen now, of all times in the last four months, to stand up to him. He would not be filthy, hungry, cold, angry and worried. Again, it was the worried part that most infuriated him. She hadn't even been trying, and she'd wormed her way into his thoughts. She was out there, walking unprotected through the halls, with Crabbe and Goyle probably stalking her. And when they found her, they would take her! Draco knew their victim could be in any condition at all, as long as she was still alive. The thought of what the two might do to her before they killed her made his blood boil. He glared at the chain and lock again, wanting to smash through the bars, and smash Crabbe and Goyle. With a loud yell, he threw himself at the bars, trying to force the door open. He bounced off the cold iron and staggered back. Lord, that hurt! And hurting himself wasn't going to help Weasley! He had to start thinking, using his brain! Emotion wasn't going to get him out of here. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, Draco sank to the ground and closed his eyes.  
  
Ginny was still moving cautiously, listening before turning corners and trying to peer down hallways. She was near Gryffindor and still hadn't seen any sign of either Crabbe or Goyle. She was actually beginning to think she'd exaggerated the possible danger they posed when she heard shuffling movements behind her. She ducked into a doorway, thankful that most doors in the school were deep set. Flattening herself against the wooden panel, she listened carefully.  
  
"Do you think she went to breakfast already?" she heard Gregory Goyle's voice ask. He sounded like he was around the corner she had just turned. She didn't want to risk looking, though. They might actually be in the same corridor as she was.  
  
"Idiot. Breakfast isn't for another half hour. Why would she go so early?" Vincent Crabbe answered.  
  
"Dunno. Just wondered. I'm getting tired of following her around. Can't we just grab her and have done?"  
  
"What, and have the entire castle looking for her? No, we wait until later, when everyone is busy with other things. Wait 'til they're all enjoying their Christmas presents and making merry. No one'll miss her for hours! Especially since she's been spending so much time wandering about the castle, anyway."  
  
Ginny felt a chill go up her spine. What were they talking about? Why would they want to 'grab her'? And what did they plan to do with her that would take hours for anyone to miss her? She wanted to dash back to Gryffindor, but knew that if she did, they'd be on her in a moment. Her panic level jumped a notch as their conversation continued.  
  
"Once we take her, what'll we do with her 'til we can sneak her out of the castle?" Goyle asked.  
  
"We'll hide her in one of the empty classrooms. We'll put a silencing spell on her and then we can do whatever we want with her! She don't have to be a virgin sacrifice, just a living one!"  
  
Ginny finally understood. She'd accused Malfoy of using her as his ticket into the Deatheaters, but she'd been wrong. Possibly dead wrong. She heartily wished she'd listened to Malfoy and given him his wand. He probably knew lots of spells that she didn't. Maybe he could have thought of some way out of the cell. She didn't think she'd ever been so scared in her life, not even when Malfoy had been choking her.  
  
She felt a wild desire to laugh hysterically, but she bit her lip, hard. The pain brought the hysterics under control, but she couldn't control the nasty voice that was telling her that Malfoy must have known. He must have known what the two were planning, otherwise why would he have acted so concerned? Why hadn't he told her? Was he in on it, too? A second voice reminded her that she hadn't bothered to listen. And even if he did know, he'd thought Crabbe and Goyle were safely out of the school. And he HAD been concerned. Hadn't he tried to prevent her from leaving the chamber?  
  
Ginny's thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she heard Goyle's voice again.  
  
"Just what do you think bloody Malfoy is up to? Think he's got plans for our little Weasley himself?  
  
"Well," Crabbe growled in a nasty voice, "if he does, he'll have to go through us. He had his chance to join, last year, but he didn't want it. Thought he was too bloody good for the likes of us! But, he'll find out his ruddy father can't always protect him."  
  
There was a sound of a fist smacking a hand. "Well, if I see him first, I'll give him something to think about," Goyle said. "I'll rearrange his bloody arrogant face for him! I'll teach him he can't interfere with us!"  
  
Ginny heard loud footsteps approaching. She nearly panicked again. There was no way they could miss her if they walked up the corridor.  
  
"Goyle, you idiot, get back here!" Crabbe's voice sounded irritated. "We don't even know that's what he's up to." The footsteps stopped, then turned back.  
  
"Besides, we can't hang about outside Gryffindor. That git Finnegan already saw us. You want the entire Gryffindor lot down on us? We'll just wait until after breakfast. Then everyone'll be off doing their own thing and we'll be able to take her. Come on."  
  
Ginny heard their steps receding. She felt faint with relief, but paused only a moment. She looked carefully to make sure they were really gone, the sped to the Gryffindor Common Room. Luck was with her; there was still no one about. She hurried to her room and headed for the laundry basket that she'd tossed her soiled robe in. It was gone! The house elves had already taken the laundry! She knew elves in the kitchens, but didn't know any of the laundry elves. The chances of her being able to talk one of them into searching the hundreds of robes they probably had just to find a key were remote. Besides, she didn't even know where the laundry facilities were!  
  
Ginny sat on her bed and wanted to howl. Things were going from bad to worse! She was badly shaken by what she'd heard Crabbe and Goyle saying, she wanted desperately to get Malfoy off her hands, and now, everyone would be getting up any time to go down to breakfast!  
  
She couldn't just sit here, though. She had to get back to Malfoy and get him out of there. If anything happened to her, he wouldn't be locked up for long, since Ariel would immediately inform the Headmaster if she didn't receive an owl. But if those two maniacs found where he was, he would be at their mercy. He didn't even have a wand to defend himself! Ginny was tempted, just for a moment, to 'borrow' Harry's invisibility robe. Oh, she knew he had one. She'd seen it when she had taken Tom Riddle's diary back from him years ago. But Ron and Harry would be in their room right now, and Ginny didn't want to wait for them to vacate. She had a very bad feeling that something was going to happen, soon. Something very bad. Still dithering, Ginny looked at where her writing paper was neatly arranged on the desk the girls in this room shared. Making a quick decision, she wrote a few lines to Ariel, sealed the note, and stuffed it in her pocket. She was about to leave when she heard other students in the hallway.  
  
Damn, she was too late. There was no way to sneak out now. Everyone would want to know why she wasn't heading down to Christmas breakfast. She glanced around the room and her eyes lit on her small pile of presents. She hurriedly grabbed the chocolates that Fred and George had sent her. She doubted they were really chocolates. They were probably some prank gift, as usual. But they would make a perfect excuse. She could just say she was meeting the 'mystery beau' to give him a present. And, she would make sure no one followed her!  
  
Ginny concentrated on making herself appear calm. It was difficult, but she figured a little jitteriness could be written of as girlish infatuation. She went down the stairs and found Ron and Harry waiting for her. Ron gave her a quick look and a smile, but Harry stared.  
  
How odd, Ginny found herself thinking. When Draco had stared at her earlier, she'd felt flustered and warm and shivery. But when Harry stared, she just felt offended. Maybe—Draco? Had she just called him Draco? Ginny felt her nerves must be farther gone than she'd suspected. She gave Harry a frown and turned to Ron with a bright, false smile.  
  
"So, what'd you get?" she asked cheerfully.  
  
"Aw, you know, same old stuff. 'Cept Harry got me a pair of tickets to see the Chudley Cannons play right after school's out! Figured I'd reward him by taking him along. So, how 'bout you?"  
  
Ginny remembered the lavender hand cream and gave Ron a big hug.  
  
"My brother gave me a fabulous bottle of hand cream! I just love it! Thanks, Ron!"  
  
Ron flushed and smiled. "Well, Hermione helped me pick it out. I was going to get you these great socks, with toes in them! But she said you'd like the lotion better."  
  
He shook his head as though wondering at feminine judgment. Ginny glanced at Harry. "So, what did you get?"  
  
"Oh, this and that," he said neutrally. "I did notice, though, that I didn't even get a card from you."  
  
Ginny frowned again. This was the first year she hadn't given Harry anything at all. No present, no card, nothing. He was giving her that odd look again and Ginny found herself bristling.  
  
"Well, you know, it's bad form for a girl to give presents to a fellow who already has a girlfriend," she said, wanting to close the subject. If she didn't know better, she would say that Harry was acting jealous all of a sudden. "Speaking of girlfriends and boyfriends," she added, holding up the box of chocolates, "I'm on my way to deliver a present. See you at breakfast!"  
  
Then, before they could ask any questions, Ginny slipped through the portrait hole and was gone.  
  
  
  
Draco finally opened his eyes and shivered. He felt exhausted and he was freezing. Usually the cold didn't bother him, but he needed food and water. Suddenly, he looked over at the fireplace. Last night's dinner was still there, along with the box of fudge Weasley had brought. Despite his uneasiness, the thought of Weasley and fudge sent heat coursing through his veins. The look on her face, the soft, trembling lips… — lord, he'd have to think about that later. Right now, he needed to eat. He moved over and pulled the tray to the bars. He grabbed one of the chops and took a bite. It was cold, but delicious. He finished it in three bites, then grabbed the next. When he finished the chops, rolls and applesauce, Draco felt a little better. He knew he hadn't gotten all his strength back, but at least he wasn't shaky anymore. And he even downed the disgusting pumpkin juice.  
  
Draco had to grin a little as he looked down at the tray. Weasley had remembered a napkin and silverware, too, but he hadn't even touched them. Now he looked at the cloth napkin and the long butter knife. Something was niggling at the back of his brain. Something to do with pressure and leverage, or something like that. He looked from the tray to the cell door, knowing he was missing something important and something very simple. But he couldn't spend the time on that now. Now he had to get free and track Weasley down. Or Crabbe and Goyle. If he couldn't find them, he would go to the headmaster, but only as a last resort.  
  
  
  
Ginny hurried toward the owlery. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she certainly didn't want to disappear without a trace! She'd written a few quick lines to Ariel, briefly outlining what she'd overheard Crabbe and Goyle saying. She would find one of the school owls to deliver the message. If she gave it to Pigwidgeon, it would take much longer to be delivered.  
  
The owlery was dark and quiet and warm. The only sound was the occasional flutter of wings or a soft, quiet hoot. Ginny looked through the dim light, trying to find a likely candidate to carry the note. But she hadn't brought any snacks with her. Most of the owls weren't interested in carrying letters for free. Almost in despair, Ginny was about to approach Pig after all, when Archimedes fluttered down to perch on her shoulder. Ginny had faithfully come up to feed and groom the lovely bird, just as she'd promised. Now, Archimedes extended a claw to her.  
  
"Oh, you lovely, intelligent, wonderful creature!" Ginny cooed at her. "Thank you so much!" Ginny gave the owl the note and made sure she knew where to deliver it.  
  
"I'll never be able to thank you enough, but I'll always feed and groom you whenever you want," Ginny promised again. With a slight twitch of her head, as though accepting Ginny's words, Archimedes spread her wings and flew off.  
  
With a slight sigh of relief, Ginny turned and headed for the Magical Healing wing. She tried to be careful, listening before rounding corners, peeking down stairwells before descending. She was actually quite close to the hidden chamber when her luck finally ran out. Ginny looked around a corner and found it clear. She hurried around and sprinted toward the next corner when Vincent Crabbe stepped in front of her.  
  
Ginny let out a small shriek and tried to turn around, but his hand lashed out and grabbed her robe before she got more than a step or two. She continued to pull away, her hands working furiously at the fastenings, but then she felt a strong hand wrap around her arm. She was hauled back and thrust against the wall, Crabbe and Goyle leering at her evilly.  
  
"Well, look what we got here. A little bitty weasel running around the halls alone!" Goyle was practically drooling as he let his hand move from her arm up to her shoulder and down, over her breast.  
  
Ginny cringed away from the touch, but that only made him laugh.  
  
"We warned you it wasn't safe to go wandering about by yourself," Crabbe smirked. "Didn't we warn her, Greg?"  
  
"Yup, warned her just last night. We just forgot to tell her it was us she should watch out for."  
  
Both boys were now laughing harshly. For the first time in her life Ginny fervently prayed to see Argus Filch or Mrs. Norris. But they were probably enjoying their Christmas breakfast like almost everyone else. She thought of screaming, but Crabbe seemed to have read her mind.  
  
He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small, silver object. Flicking the small button on the side, he ejected a deadly looking blade.  
  
"I know you want to scream, little Ginny," he sneered, "but make no mistake. I won't kill you, I'll just cut you up, really good."  
  
He turned to Goyle. "Come on, let's get her into one of the classrooms!"  
  
As they hauled on her arms, the box of chocolates dropped from Ginny's pocket. Ginny braced herself when it struck the ground, but nothing happened.  
  
"Oh, look!" Goyle scooped the box up. "Were you taking sweets to your sweetheart?" he jeered. "Who is it, Malfoy?" He laughed and shook the box, then tore the top off, letting it drop to the ground.  
  
Crabbe stopped and glared at his partner. "Stow it, will you? We got more important things to worry about right now!"  
  
"Yeah, but I'm starving! Just one, okay?"  
  
Crabbe rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on Ginny's arm. The knife was still open, flashing dangerously in his other hand.  
  
"All right, fine! Eat the whole bloody box, then let's get her stowed!"  
  
Goyle's eyes lit up and he took several chocolates in his large fist. Ginny looked away, disgusted, when he stuffed them all in his mouth, chocolate oozing from his lips. He smiled broadly as he chewed, more liquidy chocolate drooling from his mouth. He brought an arm up to wipe away the mess, then froze, his eyes wide. Ginny's eyebrows shot up as she saw smoke starting to billow form Goyle's ears and nose. She glanced quickly at the box top, now lying on the ground. In one of the twin's handwriting on the inside of the box, it read :Weasley's Blazing Bonbons. Warning: eat only one at a time.  
  
Ginny looked back up to Goyle's now beet red face and backed into the wall. She had never heard of these particular gag candies, but the effect looked awesome! Crabbe was staring at Goyle now, his eyes nearly bugging out of his face. Goyle, meantime, was trying to spit out the remaining chocolates, but couldn't, because his lips were blistered and swollen.  
  
When his mouth had begun to burn, Goyle had released Ginny's arm. But Crabbe was still holding tightly onto her. Ginny realized, however, that this might be the only chance she had to get away from them.  
  
Goyle finally cleared the remaining candy from his mouth. The disgusting pile of goo hissed and sizzled at his feet. But now that his mouth was clear, he began to yowl and scream for water. He hopped from one foot to the other, vigorously fanning at his mouth. Despite her fear, Ginny could only watch him in a kind of horrified awe. His ears and nostrils were still emitting tendrils of smoke and his lips were swollen to more than twice their normal size.  
  
"Shut up, you stupid git!" Crabbe bellowed. "You want the whole school down on us?"  
  
He was glaring at Goyle and his hold on Ginny's arm had loosened slightly. This was her chance! Ginny swung her foot as hard as possible, driving the pointed toe of her boot into Crabbe's shin. At the same time, she twisted her arm and yanked away. Crabbe howled in pain and moved to grab his injured leg, when he saw his prey escaping.  
  
Ginny spun and was off in a flash, but not before Crabbe swung out with the hand holding the knife. A fraction slower, and the blade would have buried itself deep in her back. As it was, the knife slashed through her sleeve and sliced across her arm. Ginny cried out but kept moving. Crabbe hobbled a few steps after her, cursing and brandishing the knife. He only got a few feet before Goyle, still lumbering about and fanning at his mouth, ran into him, sending both young men crashing to the ground.  
  
Ginny could still hear the clamor they were making, but she was concentrating on getting as far from them as possible. Glancing around, she got her bearings and headed for the hidden chamber. There had to be some way to get Malfoy out of the cell, even without the key. Even if it meant giving him his wand back.  
  
Ginny's arm was in agony. She could feel blood soaking her sweater and robe, but didn't dare stop and look. After what seemed an eternity, she stood before the hidden door. The safety she sought was just inside, but she was spent. She had to catch her breath. Ginny leaned forward and rested her forehead on the hard wooden panel, breathing hard. She noticed the blood dripping down her arm onto the floor, and realized with a sinking feeling that she had left a trail for Crabbe and Goyle to follow. She had to clean it up or they'd find the chamber. Groaning, she pulled her wand from her pocket she motioned toward the blood. But then she heard muttered curses and pounding footsteps from up the hallway. They were already here! She had to get inside, now! Ginny lifted her hand to the panel, ready to utter the words to open it. Then she paused. These two were insane, and Malfoy was inside, locked up without a wand. He was completely unprotected.  
  
Ginny stepped away from the panel into the middle of the corridor. She lifted her wand and waited. She thought she heard Malfoy shouting her name from inside the chamber, but it was probably her imagination. How would he have known she was out here? Then she realized that the corridors were probably playing tricks with Crabbe's and Goyle's voices. Gripping her wand more tightly, Ginny concentrated on the end of the hallway where the voice were growing louder.  
  
  
  
Draco felt stronger, but still hadn't thought of anything useful to get out of here. There had to be a way to go about this. Good lord, if what he read in his Muggle studies was true, Muggles were always getting themselves out of fixes without magic. He considered himself smarter than any Muggle, so there had to be a way! If he had a heavy pry bar, he would just attack the chain directly, but he couldn't very well go at the heavy chain with a butter knife, now, could he?  
  
Draco moved to the door again to take another look at the lock and chain. Then he lowered his brows. He looked at the tray, with the napkin and knife, then back to the bars. He was starting to get the very faintest of ideas. Maybe, somehow, he could secure the hasp of the lock to a bar with part of the napkin. Then, with another strip of napkin, he could tie the body of the lock up, attach the other end of the napkin to another bar. He narrowed his eyes, seeing it. If he twisted a loop of the napkin around the knife, then turned it, it would take up the slack, tighten, and possibly wrench the hasp right out of the lock! It might actually work! He stood, visualizing it, when he suddenly felt a surge of panic. His hands clamped the bars tightly and he squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling passed quickly, but his muscles were jittering and his hair felt like it was standing on end. What the hell had caused that, he wondered? Was it possible that Weasley was in some real trouble? He needed to get out, NOW! And even if his plan worked, it would take just too long!  
  
He glared at his robe, just feet away, with his wand inside. But it might as well be on the moon for all the good it did him right now. Then he stopped. Hadn't he, as a child, performed some magic without a wand?  
  
He remembered. His bedroom, in the dead of night. His father had argued with his mother about something, and he'd had to listen to them, his stomach in knots. His father was worse than usual, this time. His mother was trying to argue back, trying to defend herself when Draco heard the slap. His father had hit his mother! Draco had been out of bed in a second and pelting for the master bedroom. Halfway there, he stopped, watching his mother stumble from the room, holding her face and crying! There was blood running from her mouth! The rage he felt was indescribable. He ran to his mother and threw his arms round her legs. Lucius had followed her out of the room and yelled for Draco to move aside. Draco was afraid of his father, but when the man raised his hand to strike again, Draco focused all his rage at him. Lucius flew across the hall and crashed into the wall. Draco was frightened, but he'd glared at his father and told him to never, ever touch his mother again. Lucius had pulled himself off the floor, but at Draco's words, he'd bellowed and charged the boy. Narcissa had, for the first time in her life, tried to throw herself between Lucius and Draco, yelling at Lucius to leave Draco alone. In that second, Draco had felt more love for his mother than he ever had before or since. Ignoring his mother's panicked cry, and pushing her behind him, Draco had focused his anger on his father again. Again, the man had flown through the air and crashed into the wall. This time, he stayed down, glaring at his wife and son from beneath bloody brows. Draco again told him leave his mother alone. As far as he knew, Lucius had never touched Narcissa again.  
  
Draco hadn't thought about that in years. His father had told him, some time later, that a wand only focused magic, but all wizards could, to some extent, use magic without a wand. Now Draco needed magic and didn't have a wand. Could he do it? He focused on the robe. He needed it, badly. If he'd had his wand, he would have just pointed and beckoned. Lifting his left arm, Draco pointed at his robe. He felt ridiculous at first, but then he felt a tug of power course down his arm. Eyes wide, he focused harder. The robe! He visualized it floating up, off the ground, and over to the cell. He felt more tingling in his arm and almost shouted when he saw the robe actually twitch!  
  
Elation coursed through him! It might actually work! He concentrated again and pointed at the robe. He visualized it lifting and floating through the air, right into his hands. The robe twitched again, then moved. One sleeve pulled out and sort of slithered over the hard tiles, toward him. He wanted to cheer, but as soon as he thought it, the robe went limp and motionless again. Concentrate, he ordered himself. He could not afford to let himself get distracted.  
  
Draco was covered in sweat by the time he got the robe halfway across the empty floor. But each effort was getting easier. He paused to take a few deep breaths, feeling the fatigue and inactivity of the last few days weighing him down. He was just about to begin again, when he heard something from the door. Thanks the fates! he breathed to himself. Weasley had made it back. She was safe! His relief was quickly followed by irritation that he even cared. Damn, this was the girl who had gotten him into this mess in the first place. She had locked him up, starved him, and humiliated him. But the worst thing she'd done was to make him feel this way: protective, worried, frantic, desperate. She had come after him with a vengeance, told him ridiculous stories about his father, insulted him. She'd jumped away from his caress like he was infectious. And he wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and hold her and protect her.  
  
Well, he admitted to himself as he waited for her to enter, he wanted a BIT more than to just hold her. And what the hell was taking her so long? She should have been in her by now. He could still hear her movements outside the door, but, more important, he could SENSE her out there. Suddenly he went very still…she was hurt! He could feel it! And she was in danger! She wasn't coming in, she was waiting. But didn't she feel the danger?  
  
"Weasley!" he shouted suddenly. Damn the girl, she needed to get in here and out of the passageway! "Weasley! Damn it, VIRGINIA! Get in here!"  
  
Draco felt the panic grip him again. Something very, very bad was about to happen. He knew it! He looked at the robe, only three feet away, but still unreachable. He focused, having difficulty concentrating, now. Pointing, he muttered, "Accio!"  
  
The robe moved again, this time faster. It was moving closer, closer, only inches away, and then he had it in his hands. He fumbled with it, cursing as his knife, wand and the pouch of retching powder dropped from where they'd been neatly folded inside to the ground. Draco dropped to his knees and scrabbled for the wand. His fingers were just closing around it when he heard Weasley scream, "STUPEFY!" 


	11. Chapter Ten

A/N—Although it is technically possible to reduce one's own dislocated shoulder, it would be horribly painful and difficult to get the correct pressure, pull and angle. So please forgive me when one of the characters proceeds to do just that. I do realize that it isn't likely to really happen outside of battle or a Rambo movie, but, hey! This is fiction! Don't ya love it? Oh, also, my first and probably last attempt to write in 'old English'. K  
  
  
  
Ginny stared up the corridor, willing the two deranged young men to go away. Then she saw Gregory Goyle! He rushed around the corner, his face red, his lips cracked and bleeding from the effect of her brothers' gag candy. His eyes fastened on her with evil intent. He hooked his hands into claws and charged at her, screeching incoherently. Ginny backed up a few steps, frightened nearly out of her wits. Goyle was almost on her when she finally shrieked, "STUPEFY!"  
  
Goyle's momentum carried him forward as he collapsed, causing him to smash into Ginny and drag her to the floor. She landed hard, wand flying and Goyle right on top of her. Ginny heaved at him, panicked. She shoved and kicked at him, finally moving his unconscious form off of her. Ginny sat panting for only a second when she realized Crabbe wasn't around. She scrambled up and reached for her wand, when a large hard hand gripped her arm and yanked her around. She let out a little shriek and felt like passing out when she found herself looking into the enraged face of Vincent Crabbe.  
  
Crabbe squeezed Ginny's arm hard. He was gripping her over the knife wound and Ginny gasped in pain.  
  
"Oh, you like that, do you?" he sneered. He squeezed again, harder.  
  
"Get OFF, you bastard," Ginny cried, panicked. She kicked out at him. This time, however, she missed.  
  
Crabbe dodged her foot easily and raised his hand. He backhanded her so hard she would have crumpled to the ground if he'd not been holding onto her arm.  
  
"Get up, you little bitch!" he bellowed at her.  
  
Ginny was dazed and could barely understand what he'd said, much less react. Then she heard another bellow, but this came from the hidden panel. Crabbe heard it, too and spun around looking up and down the corridor frantically, trying to see where the voice had come from. A few more seconds and he would realize there was a hidden room here. He'd find the door, and Draco would be in danger!  
  
Ginny pulled herself together and bent her knees under her. Using all the strength she could muster, she straightened her legs suddenly, driving her head into Crabbe's chin. His head snapped back and he once again let go of her arm. Ginny ran toward the stairs at the end of the corridor, wanting to get him as far away from Draco as possible.  
  
Crabbe followed closely behind and was on her before she got to the bottom of the stairs. But they were in a more populated portion of the castle now. Ginny started screaming for all she was worth. Crabbe jumped at her, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her to the ground under him. Ginny's head struck the floor and she blacked out.  
  
When she came to, Ginny was sitting propped against a wall in what looked like a dark tunnel. It was cold and damp, and it smelled horribly like the chamber Tom Riddle had led her to when she'd been under his enchantment in her first year at Hogwarts. Though there were a few guttering torches set along the wall, the flickering light only made the shadows jump ominously. Looking about, she saw that there were chains on the walls at intervals. She shivered as she noticed that there were chains on her own wrists. One arm was drawn well above her head, and felt cold and numb. The other was in agony! Looking at the way the head of her long arm bone was pushed forward and her whole shoulder looked as though it had dropped three inches, she figured it was definitely dislocated this time.  
  
Ginny tried to pull herself up by the chain with her uninjured arm, but as she pulled, the chain ran through the ring on the wall above her and yanked up the dislocated arm. Pain exploded in her shoulder, making her gut wrench. Shivering harder, Ginny sat and panted, willing the pain to go away. If she'd had her wand, she would have reduced it herself, but she didn't' think she would be able to do it without magic. It was just too painful. Ginny looked around again, wondering where she was. And where was Crabbe, she wondered desperately, biting her trembling lip. From the smell and the damp, she figured she was in the dungeons somewhere. He could be anywhere, just waiting to see what she'd do. But Ginny didn't think so. She was terribly afraid he might be making arrangements for her to 'disappear' as he'd said earlier. She had to get away! But she couldn't do anything with a dislocated shoulder. A sudden, terrible idea struck her.  
  
Ginny took a deep breath, thinking hard. What she was about to try was stupid. People didn't fix their own dislocations without magic. But, she reminded herself, Muggles did it all the time if the movies she'd seen at Hermione's house were any indication. And even if they didn't fix their own, they did get them fixed, and without magic! It was simply a matter of pulling the head of the long arm bone, the humerus, out far enough to slip back into place.  
  
"Dear lord, I can't do that," she breathed quietly to herself. Even in Hermione's ridiculous movies, they made it look painful, and she knew from her studies that even with magic, it was uncomfortable.  
  
Ginny honestly didn't think she would be able to maintain the pull long enough for her shoulder to 'pop' back into place. She might not even have the strength for it. But she had to try. She wasn't about to allow Crabbe to take her without a fight. She'd already realized he wasn't as stupid as he let on, so he must have discovered her injury. He would know that it would basically disable her. If she could fix it, and then pretend she was still injured, she might be able to catch him off guard and find a way to get away.  
  
Not giving herself a chance to think it through, Ginny struggled to her feet, carefully supporting the injured arm against her chest. Despite her efforts, she was pale and trembling when she finally stood. The knife wound was still bleeding slowly, she'd found. There was a small pool of blood on the ground where her arm had lain, and her sleeve was fairly soaked. That scared her more than the dislocation. It meant that Crabbe must have used a bleeding curse or potion on his knife. She could slowly bleed to death in a matter of hours from the cut unless she did something to counteract the magic.  
  
"I'll worry about that later," she muttered to herself. The high, piercing tone of her own voice frightened her a bit.  
  
Get down to business, she thought to herself. Crabbe could be back any time. With that thought, Ginny examined the chains, the ring set into the wall and the manacles on her wrists. The manacles were actually fairly loose. She might just be able to wriggle her hands free if she could find something to lubricate her wrists. She almost giggled. She could use blood; she seemed to be producing plenty of that! Ginny quickly stifled the giggle, though. It felt more like panic than mirth, and she didn't like the idea of uncontrollable hysterics when her life was in danger. Concentrating, Ginny finally formed a plan.  
  
She would keep her wrists in the manacles for now. She really didn't think she could force herself to hang on to the chain if it weren't attached to her wrist. Ginny took a deep breath and started pulling out the slack in the chain. She wound her uninjured arm round and round, winding the chain about it, and slowly raising the injured arm. When her arm was almost level with her chest, the pain began. Ginny pulled her arm higher and the level of pain grew. When she had her arm at shoulder height, she was biting her lips to keep from groaning.  
  
I can't do this, she thought again. It hurts too much! Tears welled in her eyes as she took one last turn of chain around her arm. By now it looked like she was wearing a chain sleeve. Her fingers were turning blue at the tips as the circulation was cut off. But she finally had her arm in position. Trying to remember everything she'd read or seen, Ginny leaned back slowly. The chain tightened and began pulling on both arms. Ginny pivoted slightly, pulling the good shoulder back farther to put more pull on her injured arm.  
  
Lord, the pain was almost blinding! Just a little more, she told herself. She knew she couldn't keep at it for more than a few more seconds. Finally, desperately, Ginny allowed her legs to buckle. As she fell, she felt her weight yank against the chains, sending a bolt of pain crashing through her shoulder. She uttered one strangled cry and passed out again.  
  
Ginny was only out for a few seconds this time. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she had landed on her knees, facing the wall. Her arms were still suspended above her, her hands still tightly gripping the chains. But, while her shoulder ached, it didn't hurt anymore. Gingerly, she moved it slightly. Again, aching, but no explosions of pain. Ginny quickly unwound the chain from her arm, letting out the slack. She stood, marveling at the fact that she'd actually done it!  
  
She was about to dribble blood onto her wrists to work her hands from the manacles, when she heard shouts and scuffling from the tunnel. Someone was coming!  
  
  
  
Draco's hands were shaking. Who had she stupefied? And why didn't she come into the chamber where she might be safer? What the hell was the girl thinking? He grabbed at his wand and stood quickly. He pointed the wand at the chain and muttered a quick spell. And felt nothing! He looked at the wand again and cursed loudly. It was the wrong wand! This was a stupid prank wand he'd gotten in Hogsmeade weeks ago! With an oath, he threw it down and grabbed up the robe again. But both pockets were empty! His wand wasn't there!  
  
Draco looked quickly to where the robe had been folded and saw his real wand. It was lying on top of the green ribbon next to the wall. Gods! He had to do it again? Taking a steadying breath, Draco focused all his will on the wand. He pointed his finger at it and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Accio!" he fairly shouted.  
  
The wand, and the ribbon, shot straight toward his outstretched hand. Draco barely had time to recover from his amazement and catch the wand before it went shooting right by him. He absently stuffed the ribbon into his pocket before he was at the chain again. He called out a spell and this time felt the magic coursing through him to his wand. But nothing happened to the chain. It must have been carefully charmed to resist breaking spells. Draco didn't waste a second on it.  
  
He moved to the bars and immediately cried out a shrinking spell. The bars he pointed to began to become thinner. The iron shrieked as it tried to pull itself from the solid stone it was embedded in. Draco watched in satisfaction as the bars became thinner and shorter. Then they stopped. He'd have to cast the spell again. He lifted his wand when he heard Ginny's shriek. His eyes flew to the door and he strained his ears for any sounds. What he heard made him launch himself at the thinner bars like a madman.  
  
He heard Crabbe calling Ginny a bitch, then he heard what sounded like a solid blow! He began yelling as he threw himself at the barrier.  
  
"You bastard!" he bellowed. "I'll kill you! You touch her and I'll cut your heart out!"  
  
Draco was about to launch himself at the bars again when he heard a loud thud followed by running footsteps. A second set of footsteps followed shortly. He finally pulled himself together and hit the bars with a blast of fury-driven magic. The bars burst apart, sending iron, rock and cement flying outward. The backlash threw Draco against the wall. He struck the wall and slid to the floor, dazed.  
  
As the dust settled, however, he pulled himself up and gazed in awe at the huge, gaping hole he'd made in the barrier. The opposite wall was riddled with shrapnel and there was now a large section of iron bar buried in the door. The DOOR! Draco ran to what was left of the wall of bars and easily slipped through the mangled remnants. He paused only long enough to locate and scoop up his knife and the bag of powder. His robe was in tatters so he left it. Then he ran to the door, opened it, and rushed into the hallway, hoping he would be able to figure out where he was quickly.  
  
Once he was in the hallway, Draco almost laughed. He was in the Magical Healing corridor! What brought him back to earth, though, was the groaning, twitching lump of flesh that was Greg Goyle. Draco looked around the corridor, noting the drops of blood in both directions, but decided he'd deal with Goyle first. He might be able to learn something useful from him. Draco roughly nudged Goyle onto his back with the toe of his shoe. Then he gasped at the swollen, cracked, bleeding face. This poor bastard seemed to have gotten what he deserved already! Nevertheless, Draco pointed his wand at him and whispered, "Enervate!"  
  
Goyle croaked loudly. "My mouth! My throat! Oh, you bloody bitch!"  
  
Draco felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a harsh smile. He kneeled next to his classmate and grasped two handfuls of robe. He yanked the other young man into a sitting position and shook him violently.  
  
"You great, stupid bastard! Wake up! I need to know where Crabbe took her!" Draco said harshly.  
  
Goyle finally opened his eyes.  
  
"Malfoy? Lord, where you been?" Goyle looked astonished to find himself face to face with Draco. Then his eyes narrowed.  
  
"Took who?" he said carefully. "Don't know what you're talkin' about. I need some water!"  
  
Draco shook Goyle again, making his teeth rattle. "Tell me where Crabbe is taking Weasley, or I'll beat the crap out of you!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't have time to play games, damn you!"  
  
Goyle gave a weak laugh, blood spilling from his lips and dribbling down his chin.  
  
"Too late, Malfoy!" he said hoarsely. "Your little whore already got to me! My gut's on fire, my mouth's ruined, I can barely talk! But she won't be much to look at when Vince is done with her! He's taking her to meet another whore!"  
  
With a final wheezing cough, he lost consciousness. Draco let him drop to the ground. He turned him onto his side so he wouldn't drown on his own blood. Draco wasn't about to let him get off that easily. He'd wait until Goyle was better, then he would beat the crap out of him. He thought he had an idea where Crabbe might be, though. As he stood, he muttered to the inert form, "Stupid bastard. You thought she was just a cute, fluffy little weasel. You forgot that weasels are vicious, dangerous creatures."  
  
Draco finally turned away and studied the blood on the floor. The trail leading away from Goyle looked fresher, and the spots of blood were farther apart. He knew Ginny was hurt, he'd felt it. Now he knew she was bleeding, and running for her life. Draco took off, following the trail to the stairs and down. He came to a spot where there was a large patch of blood smeared across the floor, then the trail stopped.  
  
That didn't bother Draco now, though. There was a hidden passage that he was sure only a few Slytherins knew about. It let to the dungeons and below. In fact, it was rumored that it was connected to the old chamber that Salazar Slytherin had built himself. Many Slytherins had tried to find the chamber, but since it's being opened a few years ago, no one had tried to explore any further. They still used the passage, though. And if he were trying to kidnap a popular, well-known student, that was the way he'd go. Draco hurried down the corridor, down a flight of stairs, around a corner and up a small set of steps. This brought him to a dark alcove. Inside the alcove was a portrait of a pale, gaunt woman with a longish straight nose and dark, piercing eyes. Her auburn hair was pulled into a tight coil about her head and her clothing marked her as having lived centuries ago. She was said to have been Slytherin's unwilling mistress, but as she spoke to no one, no one knew for certain. Draco approached the portrait and waited until she looked at him with those strange, dark eyes. She wasn't scowling, as usual. She looked distressed. And she looked Draco up and down, taking in his filthy, disheveled appearance. Her thin eyebrows rose, then quickly lowered. Then she waited.  
  
"Lady," Draco said politely, with a small bow. "I know you don't deign to speak to us, but can you at least tell me whether one of my former companions has passed recently with a young woman? Perhaps she was unconscious?"  
  
Draco tried to keep the concern out of his voice. Who knew if she might be like Peeves and would withhold information out of pure contrary behavior? The woman's eyes became more distressed. Although she didn't speak a word, she waved at Draco with a beckoning gesture. She pointed agitatedly behind her and gave Draco the 'come on' gesture again. Draco approached, but didn't know what she wanted. She seemed to want him to enter the passage, but she didn't open the doorway. Then, as she kept gesturing and looking pleadingly at him, he remembered.  
  
"Salazar!" he said quickly, speaking the password.  
  
The portrait opened so fast, he had to jump back to avoid being struck by it. Draco bowed again to the lady and made to enter the passage. He stopped, shocked, when he heard a thin, reedy voice rasping at him.  
  
"Go, thee, quickly, ere the evil whelp does her grave injury!"  
  
Draco glanced quickly at the portrait, suddenly noticing the startling resemblance between the woman in the portrait and almost every Weasley he'd ever seen. Could she possibly be some descendant? Her voice brought him back.  
  
"Get thee gone! Else thou shalt be too late!"  
  
Draco bowed again and disappeared down the passage. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

A/N-Warning! Extreme violence and language. Not for the weak at heart or those who are addicted to fluff. This was a difficult chapter to write and may stink, but at least it's finally done and I can get on to the easier task of writing the last two (maybe three) chapters. I don't think this ends on a cliffie, but if so, it was either that or make the longest chapter in history. It was the logical place to end. Thanks again to everyone reading and still checking for updates. Now (yawns) to bed!  
  
Draco crept down the now-dark passage, wishing the guttering torches didn't automatically rekindle when a person passed by. Even now, they were brightening, lighting his way. He might as well blow on a trumpet to announce his coming. After years spent traveling these corridors, he knew where he was going, so he didn't need the torches. He knew that Crabbe would try to get Virginia to the far exit of the tunnel. It opened to the rear of the castle and was virtually invisible to the naked eye. Being at the rear of the castle, it was easier to approach with out being seen. That was where Crabbe would try to take her. But she was wounded and weak, so that might slow him up. And she was a fighter! If he let his guard down for a second, Crabbe might find himself in trouble.  
  
Draco smiled grimly at the thought of what tiny little Virginia Weasley had already done, not only to his former cronies, but to him as well. She had completely disabled Draco when she thought he was going to choke her. He wasn't sure exactly what she'd done to Goyle, but he looked like he might never be able to eat normally again, much less talk and breathe normally. Crabbe was obviously not having an easy time of it if he'd resorted to trying to beat her and knock her unconscious. Draco heartily hoped Virginia Weasley was safe, but he hoped she tore Crabbe to pieces at the same time. If she doesn't, I will, he promised himself.  
  
He continued to move through the tunnel, feeling it incline downward. As he traveled downward, the air became mustier. Even though some Slytherins passed through this route occasionally, it smelled stale and unused. And there was an unpleasant smell behind the mustiness, almost as though something had crawled down here and died long ago. But now there was another, fresher odor; a faint, coppery smell that made Draco think of blood. Virginia Weasley's blood.  
  
Draco bit back a curse as he moved a bit faster. The torches here were still fairly bright, and he could see to the end of the incline. There was no one moving ahead, but now he thought he could hear a faint scuffling. Then he heard a clanking of chains. He knew where the sound was coming from! There was a stretch of the tunnel that had chains attached to the wall. It was possibly two or three hundred yards ahead, but the area between was riddled with side passages, any of which could be hiding Vincent Crabbe. He was tempted to charge ahead, wand blazing, but until he knew exactly what was waiting for him, he thought he should hold back. He wouldn't do Virginia any good if he blundered into a situation before he knew what was going on. His good intentions dissolved instantly when he heard Virginia suddenly scream.  
  
Ginny was still trying to free her hands from the manacles, but blood made a poor lubricant. She was ready to try spitting on the things when she felt the hair on her nape stand up. She was being watched! Slowly she turned toward where the passage slanted upward. She couldn't see anything from that direction, and was just turning the other way when she was slammed face first into the wall.  
  
"Well, well," Crabbe's voice gloated in her ear. "Looks like the little weasel is tougher than I thought. Good job on your shoulder, by the way. Now I don't have to listen to you squealing when I fuck you!"  
  
Ginny felt the shriek welling up inside her. Any fear she'd felt with Draco was nothing compared with what she was feeling now! Crabbe was going to brutalize her, rape her and then kill her! She was chained up and helpless, unable even to kick at him with him crushing her against the wall with his large, sweaty body. Disgust nearly choked her when she felt one of his hands slither around to grope at her breast. She let the scream loose, throwing her head backward and trying to shove away from the wall. Her head struck his nose with a loud crunching sound, and he bellowed, stumbling back.  
  
"You bitch!" he shouted, hands to his face to staunch the flow of blood. "You broke my fucking nose!"  
  
Ginny turned to face him, shrinking back against the wall as he approached again.  
  
"Oh, I'm REALLY going to hurt you now!" he told her, shoving her back into the wall and wedging his knee between her legs. "And you're not going to get me like you did Malfoy!"  
  
Ginny tried to struggle, but if Draco outweighed her by fifty pounds, Crabbe must have had at least a hundred on her. Not only that, but the chains on her wrists were hampering her. Crabbe laughed evilly, and, with one sharp movement, ripped her now tattered robe completely off. He hauled the bottom of the sweater up to her waist and dug his hand into the waistband of her jeans, trying to rip the fastening open.  
  
"Get OFF!" Ginny screamed, still trying to fight Crabbe off.  
  
Crabbe yanked at the button of her pants, finally tearing the buttonhole out completely. He grinned into her face and started shoving his hand downward when an outraged bellow from behind him startled him.  
  
Then Ginny could only stare in amazement as Crabbe seemed to be yanked away from her. He was thrown, arms and legs flailing, across the tunnel against the far wall. He landed in a heap on the floor and was still. Ginny turned her head to look up the passageway and saw Draco standing, fists clenched, face stormy, staring at Crabbe.  
  
"Draco!" she breathed.  
  
She didn't know how he'd gotten loose, but it was like a miracle to see him here. And she'd never been so happy to see anyone before. Then Ginny realized he wasn't holding his wand. How had he thrown Crabbe across the tunnel? And how had he gotten loose for that matter? Goyle couldn't have released him, since she'd left him stupefied upstairs.  
  
Draco tore his gaze away from Crabbe's motionless form and fixed on Virginia's face. He'd heard her scream and taken off running, stuffing his wand into a pocket. When he'd reached the bottom of the incline, he had frozen for a second. He'd wanted to do murder when he'd seen the huge bastard groping at her. Gathering the rage he felt, he had simply pointed and thrown him. He still wanted to kill him, but Virginia needed his help. He hurried to her side and pulled his wand from the pocket he'd shoved it in. The powder and his knife fell from the pocket and landed, unnoticed at his feet.  
  
"Look what I found," he said in a low voice, taking in the cuts and bruises on her face. "A little, trapped weasel. What should I do with you now, little weasel? After all the trouble you caused me?"  
  
Ginny looked up into his face, unable to read the expression there. Had she been wrong? Was he in league with Crabbe and Goyle after all? No, that's wasn't possible, because his anger had been very real. Draco wasn't looking at her face anymore, though. He was holding one of her hands and inspecting the raw, chafed wrist. His brow lowered and he tapped the iron band with his wand. It snapped open, freeing her wrist. He opened the other, then took both hands in his.  
  
"I could strangle you for what you've put me through!" he said suddenly.  
  
Ginny felt a chill travel down her spine at the tone of his voice. He sounded so angry! And who could blame him? She could have prevented all of this by just giving him his damned wand. Or not starting this in the first place! She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, as though inviting him to throttle her. She was so tired, she couldn't have fought him if she'd wanted to. But she had no will to fight. When she felt his large, strong hands encircle her neck, she merely sighed and leaned into his hard frame.  
  
Draco watched her close her eyes and surrender. He felt his anger drain away as he took in the cuts and bruises on her face. He glanced from the injured arm, the sleeve torn, tattered and soaked with blood, to her chafed, raw wrists. His gut wrenched and he raised his hands to her throat. He felt the faint, thready beat of her pulse, rapid and slightly erratic. He looked at the arm again, realizing that it was still bleeding. Even though he wanted to rouse Crabbe from his stupor and beat the hell out of him, he had to get Virginia to the healer.  
  
He was about to tell her so when she opened her eyes. He looked into the great, brown eyes, feeling himself pulled to her. He leaned forward slightly, longing to brush her trembling lips with his. But he remembered what Crabbe had been about to do to her. She was frightened enough already. She didn't need HIM mauling her as well.  
  
Ginny stared up into the hard eyes, wondering what he was thinking. He wasn't hurting her, but his expression was impossible to read. She reached up to touch his face, brushing the blond beard again as she had earlier. Then she slipped her hand around his neck and rose up on her toes, bringing her mouth to his.  
  
"You still have chocolate on your mouth," she breathed, not believing she was doing this, unable to stop herself.  
  
She pressed her lips to the small smudge just under his bottom lip and gently licked off the smear.  
  
"Dear gods," Draco breathed, then pressed his lips to hers, trying to be gentle.  
  
Ginny winced slightly as he pressed against her swollen lower lip, but pressed closer. She didn't want gentleness right now. She wanted him to kiss her like he meant it! Draco saw that he was hurting her and pulled back. He stared into her face, trying to rationalize why she would want him, especially now.  
  
"You're hurt. You've lost a lot of blood. I think you must be delirious." His words were sharp as he decided this was the only possible explanation.  
  
Ginny opened her eyes wide, then sighed. "You're right, of course," she said sadly. "I must be. I thought you wanted to kiss me."  
  
He did! Desperately. More than she could know. And, unbelievably, it seemed she wanted him to. But she WAS weak with blood loss. She mightn't feel the same way once she recovered. He watched her lower her forehead to his chest, like a tired child. Gods, how he wanted her!  
  
Trying for a light tone, he said, "Let me get you to Pomfrey, then, if you still feel the same, we'll discuss kissing, right?"  
  
Ginny gave him a slight smile and nodded. After she saw the healer, Draco would be lucky to get off with merely a kiss! She wrapped her good arm around his neck as he prepared to lift her.  
  
"Petrificus Totalis!"  
  
The curse was completely unexpected and Ginny felt Draco's body go rigid before he fell to the ground. She tried to hold him, but he was too heavy for her. She looked, horrified, as Vincent Crabbe struggled up from the floor where he had lain, wand out and face contorted with hatred and rage.  
  
"SHOWED YOU, YOU PRAT!" he screamed at Draco's inert form.  
  
He finally made it to his feet, blood streaming from a gash on his head. He advanced on Draco, wobbly at first, then more steadily. He kept his wand trained on Draco's body, as though afraid the petrified form might suddenly leap up and blast at him. Ginny looked around for anything she could use to defend Draco, but he had his own wand clamped tightly in his petrified hand. Then she spotted the knife and bag that had dropped from his pocket earlier. Keeping an eye on Crabbe, she slid down the wall, trying to look as though she were on the verge of collapse. Crabbe wasn't even looking at her right now, though. He was staring at Draco with intense hatred, his small, piggy eyes almost bugging from their sockets.  
  
"So the great Malfoy isn't so great after all!" he yelled. "Where's your father now, Drake-Oh!? Not here to protect his widdle Drakie-wakie, is he?"  
  
His voice climbed higher and higher, and his expression became more and more demented. Ginny had never seen true madness before, but she was certain Crabbe was very close. Suddenly, Crabbe's foot shot out and caught Draco square in the stomach. Ginny cried a protest, but Crabbe ignored her.  
  
"Always acting like you're BETTER," he punctuated the word with another savage kick. "Think you're special because you're old man is thick with You-Know-WHO!" Another kick.  
  
Finally Ginny couldn't stand it. She scooped up the knife and opened the blade. It was small, but wickedly sharp. Crabbe had kicked Draco into the middle of the passage and now stood with his back to Ginny. Ginny gathered all her strength and courage, and, with another small cry, launched herself at Crabbe's back. She couldn't hang on with her hurt arm, but she was able to drive the small blade deeply into the muscle of Crabbe's shoulder. As he wrenched away, the blade was torn from her hand and clattered away against the wall. Ginny stumbled back a few steps, but not fast enough.  
  
Crabbe whirled around, yelling, and sent Ginny crashing into the wall with a backhanded slap. He followed her and hauled her up by her robes.  
  
"You stuck me! ME! You'll pay for that, bitch!" He raised his hand but found it caught in a viselike grip that he'd felt before.  
  
Draco hauled him back, and he released Ginny's robes. Ginny fell back again and watched in disbelief as Draco sent Crabbe flying across the tunnel to smash into the far wall again. He knelt next to her, touching the new bruise on her face. His own features went dark as he fingered the blood escaping from her mouth.  
  
"How..." she started to ask, but he was gone.  
  
The pain from Crabbe's kicks had been nothing to the pain he'd felt when he watched Crabbe strike Virginia. Concentrating, he'd released himself from the body binding curse. He felt the power coursing through him as he pulled Crabbe away from her and sent him across the passage. Now he was going to kill the piece of filth.  
  
He advanced on Crabbe's crumpled form, willing the other young man to stand up and fight. Crabbe played into his hands. He shook his head and looked up at Draco, not believing what had just happened. It was impossible that the skinny rich boy he had come to hate with his entire being had just thrown him into the wall. He must have used magic, like he had the first time. But Crabbe had felt Draco's hands on his shoulders, hauling him backward and tossing him, like a rag doll. Crabbe stumbled to his feet and stood facing Draco, arms apart, legs crouched and ready to spring. He'd been taken by surprise, but Draco was hurt, now. Crabbe had heard one or two of his ribs break and could see the smaller young man hunching over in pain. Vincent grinned.  
  
"Right, then, come on, Malfoy. Let's see what you've got."  
  
Draco only watched him. He would wait for Crabbe to make the first move. Crabbe shifted from leg to leg, feinting forward then falling back. But Draco didn't fall for any of the fake attacks. Then Crabbe sprang forward, intending to wrap Draco up in his strong arms and crush his ribs. He didn't plan on Draco's hard fist driving into his gut, driving the air out of his lungs and driving him to his knees.  
  
Draco watched Crabbe fall to his knees, trying to hitch breath into his lungs. He stepped forward and gripped Crabbe's short hair in his right hand, holding his head up.  
  
"You piece of shit," he muttered.  
  
Then he lashed out with his left fist, knocking Crabbe onto his back. Ginny cringed as she watched Draco's cold, hard expression. Draco calmly straddled Crabbe and reached down to grab his robe. He hauled him into a sitting position and struck again. And again. And again.  
  
Crabbe had been struggling, but after the third or fourth blow, his head lolled back and he hung lifelessly in Draco's grip. Draco made a sound of disgust and dropped the other young man, then sat on his chest and began to pummel him with both hands.  
  
Ginny realized with a feeling of horror that Draco was really going to beat Crabbe to death! She had to stop him! Picking herself up painfully, she stumbled over and tried to wrap her arms around his, but he shrugged her off easily.  
  
"Draco! Please! Stop!" She shouted loudly, but he was beyond hearing her.  
  
Looking around desperately, she saw the bag of awful smelling powder. She scrambled over to it and brought it back. She had an idea what it was and hoped desperately it might work. Fumbling with the tie, she sprinkled a small pile into her hand.  
  
Draco was still pounding at Crabbe. Crabbe's face was now a bloody mess and he was no longer even moaning. Please don't let me be too late, she breathed.  
  
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and shoved her hand into Draco's face.  
  
Draco flinched back slightly, inhaling sharply at her unexpected attack. Much of the powder went directly up his nose. Ginny backed away and watched, trembling, as the powder took immediate effect. Draco's eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. He rolled off Crabbe's chest and pulled himself into a tight ball, retching and heaving horribly. He tried to clear his nose, blowing and sneezing between retching, but it didn't help.  
  
Ginny stared helplessly for a second, then remembered a spell she'd learned from the twins to ward off sneezing powder. She moved to Draco's side and whispered a small prayer. She dipped into the only pocket she could reach, his left, and came up with his wand. She performed the spell quickly, relieved that his retching stopped almost immediately. He was breathing hard, tears streaming from his eyes, but he wasn't gagging or heaving anymore.  
  
Draco took several deep breaths, then looked up at Virginia. She was watching him with worried eyes. She looked like she was ready to cry. He reached up and grabbed her sweater, pulling her down to him.  
  
"Why!?" was all he could manage to croak out.  
  
"Gods, I'm sorry! But you were killing him! I couldn't stop you!"  
  
He let go and let his hand fall to his side. Why did she care if he killed Crabbe? The world would be better off without that filth.  
  
As though reading his thoughts, Ginny said quietly, "I couldn't let you go to Azkaban for murder. Not when you were trying to protect me."  
  
She dropped her eyes and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Can you stand?"  
  
Draco pushed her hand away and sat up. The effects of the powder were gone, but the physical strain was draining. But he wouldn't let her see him weak and shaky. He couldn't believe that he'd come to rescue her and she'd dosed him with his own powder. Regardless of the reason, that was a hell of a way to show gratitude. He stood, swaying slightly.  
  
"Yes, I can stand," he told her icily. "Now get up. We're getting out of here."  
  
Ginny looked down and folded her hands in her lap. She mumbled something.  
  
"Damn it, Weasley, speak up. I can't hear you!" he snapped  
  
"I said, I don't think I can," she repeated. She looked up and gave him a wobbly smile. "I think I left it too late."  
  
Then she fainted dead away.  
  
Draco hurried up the passage, Virginia's limp form draped in his arms. She was dying! He could have had her to the healer, but instead he'd wasted time with Crabbe. While her life was slowly ebbing away, he'd been proving how `macho' he was, how strong and manly he could be. She'd even used the last of her strength preventing him from ending up in prison for murder. Gods, what an idiot he was. He had to get her to hospital. If she died, he'd just hurl himself from the nearest turret! He was almost to the entry when she stirred.  
  
"Draco?" she murmured.  
  
Her voice was like a caress when she said his name. He loved it but she had to save her strength.  
  
"Don't talk. I'm taking you to the healer," he instructed.  
  
His heart swelled as she smiled and whispered, "Then we'll discuss kissing, right?"  
  
He brushed her forehead with his lips and said, "That's right. But now, just relax and let me take care of you."  
  
With a soft sigh, she nestled her head against his shoulder. He would get her to the healer, then he would go to Dumbledor and tell him everything. Draco didn't relish the idea of going to the man he'd been taught from infancy to hate, but he'd do it. He felt a bit light headed, and knew he had to get some medical help himself. Crabbe's kicks had done some serious internal damage and Draco could feel himself growing gradually weaker. He was finally at the entrance to the tunnel.  
  
He pushed the portrait open, but was astounded at what met his eyes. The small alcove was crowded with people, all staring at him with shocked surprise. The first to react was the Headmaster himself.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!" he said, stepping forward. "You've found her!"  
  
He said this loudly, seeming to be addressing his words not to Draco, but to the rest of the crowd.  
  
"We were at our wits' end. I didn't even know this passage existed!"  
  
He stepped to Draco's side, not trying to take the girl from his arms, but looking intently at her.  
  
"It looks as though you've not had an easy time of rescuing her."  
  
Again, Draco got the impression that what he was saying was for the benefit of the others gathered in the alcove.  
  
"Headmaster, she's hurt. She's got a knife wound that's been hexed to be a bleeder!"  
  
Professor Dumbledor seemed to understand instantly. He turned and called to one of the onlookers.  
  
"Poppy! Miss Weasley is hurt. I need you."  
  
The healer came forward immediately, conjuring a litter and instructing Draco to lay her on it. Before this could be accomplished, though, the crowd stirred and another person stepped forward.  
  
"Get your filthy hands off my sister, you bastard. What have you done to her?"  
  
Ron Weasley pushed toward Draco, his face flushed with anger. Draco gently deposited his burden on the litter, then faced Ron.  
  
"Get out of the way, Weasley. She needs to get to hospital."  
  
Ron drew back a step to let Madame Pomfrey pass with the litter and a small group of medics. Then he rushed up to Draco and shoved him into the wall next to the portrait, trying to get his hands on Draco's neck. Draco grabbed Ron's wrists, but hadn't the strength to break his hold. Professor Dumbledor stepped forward, along with Professor Snape, but before they could reach the two young men, a chilling voice cut in.  
  
"Loose him!" the voice shouted in Ron's ear.  
  
Ron felt an icy cold invade his body. He turned and saw the Bloody Baron gripping his shoulder, his ghostly hand seeming to sink right into his flesh. Ron's eyes widened and he promptly let Draco loose. Draco was as surprised as the rest of them. He'd never known the Baron to interfere with the affairs of the living residents of the castle. Professor Dumbledor gave the ghost a slight bow.  
  
"Thank you for your timely intervention, Baron. I believe we would be better served if we adjourned to my office. Mr. Malfoy, you will join us and perhaps explain some of the, er, unusual happenings?"  
  
He motioned for Draco to precede him, but a small voice stopped him.  
  
"Dost not ken this boy's injuries? Cans't thou not see he needeth an healer?"  
  
Draco turned back to see the woman in the portrait turning a wrathful look on the Headmaster.  
  
"No, lady," he told her softly. "He's right. We have to sort this out. I'll be fine."  
  
Draco thought he would be, now that Virginia was on the way to being taken care of.  
  
The lady was not to be put off, though.  
  
"Thou wilt die, young fool. Thy injuries are grievous. The evil young whelp hast done thee serious hurt!"  
  
The headmaster and Professor Snape turned to peer questioningly at Draco. Even Ron stopped to look at him speculatively.  
  
"She means Crabbe," he explained with a shrug. "He didn't want to give Virginia up, so I had to change his mind."  
  
He gestured absently to the portrait. "He's in there somewhere."  
  
Then, to his supreme disgust, Draco did what he'd only done once before. He fainted. 


	13. Chapter Twelve

A/N: okay, okay, my old English really stinks, but I guess everyone got the idea. This chapter was getting on to 22 pages long, so I decided to divide it and make it two chapters. I'm almost done with the second half and should post it tonight. Then I'll start on the epilogue. Also, I searched and searched and couldn't find reference to Arthur's or Bill's eye colour, so I took the liberty of assigning it, myself. If I made a mistake, I apologize in advance.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
Ginny came slowly awake, aware of soft voices talking quietly around her. She didn't open her eyes yet. She felt exhausted, bruised, and battered. And her shoulder ached horribly. She wasn't a bit disoriented, though. She must be in Hogwarts' hospital wing. Draco had been able to rescue her, and now she was safe. But she wasn't certain she wanted to face anyone yet. She had vague memories of a crowd of people outside the tunnel, including her brother and the Headmaster. She knew her brother would want to know what had happened, and she honestly didn't know what to tell him.  
  
She tried to imagine his reaction if she told the truth. `Gee, Ron,' she imagined herself saying, `I kidnapped Malfoy after he beat the hell out of me, then while I had him locked up, I kind of fell in love with him.' Huh, she thought, he'd really take THAT well, wouldn't he? She listened to the voices, sorting them out and taking in what was being said.  
  
"When is she going to wake up?" she heard Ron ask in a worried voice.  
  
"Your sister lost a lot of blood, as well as having a concussion, bruises and a dislocated shoulder. Her body needs time to recover from the shock it's suffered. She may wake at any time, or she may sleep several more hours." The healer's starchy voice made Ginny want to giggle, but she stifled it.  
  
"You should return to your dormitory, Mr. Weasley. I'll inform you as soon as she wakes."  
  
Ginny waited for her brother's response, but another voice interrupted.  
  
"We'd rather wait here, to make sure she's safe."  
  
What was Harry doing here, Ginny wondered? And why would they want to make sure she was safe?  
  
"While your concern is admirable, Harry, I think it would be better if you and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower." The Headmaster's voice was gentle, but held no room for argument.  
  
Ginny gave a silent sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to face anyone right now.  
  
The young men grumbled a bit, but finally left. Ron even said something like, `Then why does HE get to stay here?' before departing. Was it possible that Draco was waiting for her to wake up, too? Ginny waited until she was sure they were gone before opening her eyes. As she had expected, Professor Dumbledore was sitting beside her bed. The person beside him, however, was not Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Bill!" she cried, seeing her older brother watching her with a great deal of concern. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Bill was the favorite of all her brothers. He was years older, but was closest to her in temperament. And he was the only other of the Weasley offspring with their father's brown eyes. Right now he smiled gently at her.  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see you, too, luv!" He reached out to fluff her tousled curls and gave her one of the special smiles he reserved for her alone.  
  
"You look rather like what the cat dragged in, luv. What have you been doing to yourself?"  
  
The words were light, but Ginny heard the concern behind them. She looked from Bill to Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster wasn't smiling. In fact, his expression was graver than Ginny had seen it in years. She looked down at her hands. How could she answer? What did they already know? She was about to plead fatigue to get out of answering her brother, but Professor Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"We've already had bits and pieces of the story from the Baron and the Lady of the portrait, as well as from Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. I would like you to tell me the story from the beginning, so I can decide what's to be done with all of you."  
  
Ginny bit her lip, worried. When they found out that she had locked Draco up, would they expel her? Speaking of Draco, the Headmaster hadn't mentioned him. Hadn't they questioned him yet? Or had he been hurt worse than she had?  
  
"And Draco?" she asked, almost desperately. "What did he say? Is he all right?"  
  
The men exchanged a look, but Bill answered.  
  
"Malfoy is still unconscious. He was using some pretty powerful magic, and it drained his system. He's healing, but Madam P can't get him to wake up."  
  
Ginny caught her breath as the Headmaster continued.  
  
"We were hoping, Miss Weasley, that you could tell us what had happened, so we could better treat him."  
  
Ginny looked at both men, wondering what they weren't telling her. They were withholding something, she was certain.  
  
"Can I, uh, see him?" she asked, still avoiding any explanations. Whatever she said was going to get the lot of them in hot water. Crabbe and Goyle deserved it, but Draco had risked his life to save her. She wasn't going to repay him by getting him expelled, or worse, imprisoned. She wanted to talk to him, to see what he wanted to do.  
  
Bill looked at the Headmaster and shrugged. Professor Dumbledore turned his thoughtful blue eyes on Ginny, considering. He stroked his beard, somewhat absently. Ginny looked back, keeping eye contact, wanting to show them that she was determined. The professor held her eyes another moment, the smiled. It was a small, sad smile, but it was a smile.  
  
"Very well, Miss Weasley, as you seem so determined, we'll go see Mr. Malfoy. Remember, though," he added as he and Bill rose from their seats, "he was badly injured and is totally exhausted. He may not waken, and his appearance may be a bit shocking."  
  
Ginny nodded and moved to sit up. The pain that shot through her shoulder drove her back to her pillows. She gasped, but bit her lip and pushed herself up, knowing that the Headmaster and her brother were watching. If she needed help to get up, they might decide she was too weak to see Draco. Now that she could see, she noticed that her arm was heavily swathed in bandages and strapped securely across her chest. Reaching her uninjured hand to her face, she felt a few adhesive strips, but the swelling and scrapes seemed to be, for the most part, gone. The pain in her shoulder settled into a dull ache now that she was sitting. Besides feeling incredibly weak, she thought she was doing pretty well.  
  
Pulling her legs from the blankets, she threw them over the side of the bed. She was wearing a long, pea-green hospital gown that reached to her shins. She was thankful that it was a regular gown, and not one of those `johnnies' that opened in the back. She also had heavy wool socks on her feet. That should be enough, she thought, trying to suppress a shiver from the cold that seeped up from the stone floor.  
  
"Here, put this on." Bill shrugged out of his robe, revealing his typical faded jeans, button-up Levi shirt and dragon hide boots.  
  
Ginny smiled weakly and slid off the mattress. She pulled Bill's robe on, gathering the hem in her hands. Bill grinned and rolled the sleeve of her uninjured arm back so she could use the hand more easily. Then he connected a few of the fastenings for her.  
  
"Right, then," she told the two men. "I'm ready."  
  
"This way, then," Professor Dumbledore said, turning and leading them toward the rear of the hospital wing.  
  
Ginny moved close to her brother, looking up at his long, lean face with the longish nose so like their father's. She was glad to see him, but couldn't understand what he was doing at Hogwarts. Then she suddenly remembered something.  
  
"Bill," she whispered, tugging his arm, "what ARE you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with Sophia and the baby? Did something happen to the baby?"  
  
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, careful not to jostle her shoulder. He gave her another of his special smiles and shook his head.  
  
"Don't worry, the babies are fine! It was twins, and Mum and Dad are with Sophia and the kids. But I was already here. Had some important business to discuss with the Headmaster."  
  
Ginny gasped. "Twins? Boys or girls?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"Both flavors," Bill grinned, radiating pride.  
  
Ginny returned his grin, her adhesive strips pulling a bit. Then she frowned. "But Bill, what could be that urgent? At the holidays, with newborns in the house?"  
  
Bill's usually open face suddenly became shuttered. "Sorry, luv, I really can't discuss it," he said quietly.  
  
Ginny knew better than to try to tease the information from him. He wouldn't tell her and that was that. It must be really important if it pulled him away from his wife and new babies right now. She wanted to know what would bring him here, but knew if he wouldn't tell her, he had good reasons. Besides, she had enough on her plate right now without worrying about Bill's business, which had grown to include mysterious Ministry affairs totally unrelated to spell-breaking. She merely nodded and hiked up the billowing hem of Bill's robe again. She glanced ahead and saw that the Headmaster was standing in front of a door she'd never noticed before, despite being in and out of the hospital wing almost weekly in her healing class.  
  
"Let me remind you, Miss Weasley, that Mr. Malfoy's appearance might be a bit alarming. Using such pure magic without the insulation of a wand can have a very draining effect on a person who is not used to it."  
  
Ginny nodded, bracing herself.  
  
Professor Dumbledore said a few words as he waved his hand toward the door. He wasn't using a wand, she noted with a shock of surprise. He could use his magic without a wand, too? She knew she shouldn't be surprised, with him being such a powerful wizard, but it was just to STRANGE to see it happen.  
  
The door lock snicked open, and he pushed it wide, moving aside for Ginny to enter.  
  
"We'll wait here," he told her suddenly, as though coming to a decision. "If you need anything or if he comes `round, just call."  
  
Ginny gave him a grateful look and moved to enter. Bill let her go, but added, "Be careful, luv."  
  
She entered the room, wondering what Bill thought she needed to be careful about. The door closed behind her and she glanced around. There was a bed in the center of the room with a bedside table. Two or three small, uncomfortable looking chairs were placed around the bed. That was it. There were no windows in the room, and if there were large wall sconces or a chandelier for lighting, they remained unlit. The room was dark, save for a small candle burning on the bedside table. Ginny moved farther into the room, just able to make out a lump under the blankets. She moved to the side of the bed and caught her breath.  
  
He was so pale! She reached out to touch his cheek, noticing that the stubble had been either shaved or magically removed. His face was smooth and unlined and completely expressionless. Without the customary smirk, he looked much younger than his seventeen or eighteen years. He almost looked angelic. She touched his cheek and snatched her hand back instantly. He was freezing! She looked at him again, feeling herself starting to shake, despite Bill's robe. He couldn't be...No, she wouldn't even think it! Then, she saw the very slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.  
  
Ginny felt almost lightheaded with relief. Draco's hand was lying on top of the blanket, and Ginny took in hers. His hand was icy, but she held it tightly. As she watched his face, she saw the first signs of life.  
  
"Come on, Draco, you can't leave me yet. We haven't had that discussion yet!" She chafed his hand, continuing to murmur softly to him. She didn't know what she said; she just talked.  
  
Draco's face seemed to stiffen, as though listening to something unpleasant. Ginny almost stopped, but when she tried to pull her hand away, his tightened almost painfully. Biting her lip, Ginny squeezed back, whispering softly again.  
  
Draco was in a dark, silent place. He didn't like it here, but didn't know how to get out. He could see himself. He was sitting on a cold bench, head bowed, arms resting on his knees. He was weary beyond belief. There was something he was waiting for, but whatever it was, it hadn't happened yet. And it seemed it mightn't ever happen. He had been waiting for so long. Then the voice started. He knew the voice. It was cold, hard and unforgiving. It was the voice he'd heard his entire life. And now it was pounding at him, relentless and disturbing.  
  
"You're a disgrace! You could have killed the little bitch, but you didn't. You could have given her to our master, but you didn't. Her pure magic, virgin's blood could have washed the Muggle taint from his blood. And that Muggle-loving excuse for a Headmaster tells me some unbelievable garbage about you being taken prisoner! How could you let her do that? You don't deserve to live! And if you do HAPPEN to survive, don't come back home, because you have no home anymore!"  
  
The voice continued on and on, the same things over and over and over. Draco could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the dark place. The only thing he could do was to pray that it would get silent again. Whatever was supposed to happen wasn't going to, not now. His prayer was granted eventually. The voice broke off abruptly, and he sank gratefully into the silence. There was nothing left to do but let go completely. He sank deeper, feeling the cold grip him. That was the only bad thing, the cold. But it didn't matter. He'd be beyond the cold soon enough.  
  
That was when the second voice began. But this voice was quite different from the other. He was so far gone, he couldn't make out the words, but the tone was what caught him. He heard concern, but he heard longing, as well. There was something familiar in the voice. Something he'd been longing for. This was what he'd been waiting for! But what if the voice stopped? He saw himself lift his head and frown. As though the thought caused it, he heard the voice begin to die out. He reached out, trying to pull it back, and miraculously, it came back! The darkness receded, warmth began to flood his body. As he watched, he saw himself stand. The words were becoming clearer. The voice was calling him, pleading for him to come back. It was scolding him for something he hadn't done, but the scolding was only a cover for the concern he'd heard. He watched himself smile, wanting to hold the voice and promise to protect it. The room grew brighter and a door suddenly appeared in the blank  
wall. He walked toward it, and as it opened, the brilliant light streaming through surrounded him.  
  
"Please, Draco, don't leave me now," Ginny begged. Tears coursed down her cheeks now, but she didn't notice them as she held his hand and stroked at the weak pulse in his wrist with her thumb.  
  
She was badly frightened. When she'd touched his hand at first, she'd only noticed how cold it was. But the longer she held it, the more she noticed the absence of his essence. She'd touched him before, and always, under the fear or the excitement or the longing, she'd felt his life force, strong and pulsing. The ability was one of the things that made her such a promising healer. But now she barely felt it at all, and what she felt seemed to be draining away. She didn't even realize she was crying as she begged, threatened, cajoled him to come back. She was desperate.  
  
"You c-can't go now," she told him. "I need you to show me that--," she paused, swallowing hard. "You need to show me that Crabbe's way isn't the only way!"  
  
She sat on the mattress next to him. "Draco Malfoy," she said finally, her voice shaking, "if y-you don't c-come back, I'll n-never forgive you!"  
  
Then she gasped. Colour was suffusing his cheeks, his hand was growing warm. As she watched, his eyelids fluttered, almost delicately. The gray eyes were vague and unfocused at first, then, abruptly, focused sharply on her face. He reached up and tangled his free hand in her short curls, pulling her closer.  
  
"You're here," he whispered huskily. "I thought I imagined it."  
  
"Of course, I'm here," she answered softly. "We still have things to discuss." Ginny blushed slightly at her boldness.  
  
Draco gave her a small smile and tried to pull himself up to kiss her, but was barely able to brush her lips with his. He fell back against the pillow with a disgusted sigh.  
  
Ginny hid her disappointment and added hesitantly, "Oh, and Professor Dumbledore is waiting to see you."  
  
"Just as well," Draco muttered. "As weak as I am, talking is about all I'm good for!"  
  
Ginny laughed, surprised. She had thought perhaps he'd decided he didn't really want to kiss her after all, but it was just that he wasn't feeling well.  
  
Draco struggled to sit up, but couldn't seem to manage it. Ginny reached out, concerned, but his look stopped her.  
  
"Damn it, Virginia, I'm not helpless. I can do it myself!" he snapped.  
  
Ginny pulled her hand back quickly, and tucked it into her lap. She bit her lip and turned to slip off of the bed. His hand grasped her wrist, holding her. She refused to look at him, afraid she'd cry. She knew he wasn't feeling up to snuff, but that didn't give him the right to snap at her. It was probably his real personality coming out, she told herself.  
  
"Virginia, look at me," he said, sliding his hand up her arm to her shoulder. "Please?"  
  
Ginny turned around slightly and focused on his chin. "What?"  
  
"Virginia," Draco said again, this time softening his voice. "Look at me, not my chin!"  
  
She raised her eyes until she was staring into his. He didn't look angry now, but he'd sounded so like the Draco that had made her entire year so horrid.  
  
"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Virginia. I'm just not used to being so weak, or being dependent on others. Would you mind helping me?"  
  
Ginny nodded and stood. She wrapped her good arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.  
  
"You'll have to hold yourself up while I stack the pillows," she told him. With only one working arm, this was an awkward business.  
  
It took a few minutes, but Draco was finally propped up against the pillows. He looked as though he'd been through a wringer, but he seemed determined to talk to the Headmaster right away.  
  
"All right, Virginia, bring in the Inquisitor!" he quipped.  
  
Ginny didn't appreciate his humor, but she didn't say anything. She moved to the door and opened it. Professor Dumbledore was standing a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked as though he had been pacing. He looked up expectantly and Ginny nodded.  
  
"He's awake!" she said.  
  
His blue eyes had been very somber, but now they lit up. "You're amazing, Miss Weasley. Madam Pomfrey and Medic Timmons weren't exaggerating your talents."  
  
Professor Dumbledore entered the room and stopped, gazing at the pale young man in the bed. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A/N's will be at end of chapter this time…  
  
Chapter 13  
  
  
  
The Headmaster was studying Draco, but he turned back to Ginny for a moment.  
  
"Your brother is talking to Madam Pomfrey. Will you ask him to step in here, please?"  
  
Ginny hesitated for a second, but quickly nodded and moved toward the healer's office. The Headmaster turned his back on her, assuming her compliance.  
  
That's fine, she thought to herself. She would go get Bill, and follow him right back into the room. There was no way she was going to be left out of this discussion.  
  
Professor Dumbledore looked steadily at the young man on the bed. Draco looked back, just as steadily. He was determined not to let the Headmaster, a man he'd been taught to scorn for most of his life, discomfit him. He was angry, though. So Ron Weasley couldn't wait to try to beat the crap out of him, huh? Just like the stupid git to wait until Draco was exhausted and bed-ridden. But let him come, Draco thought. He'd be in for a surprise if he thought he'd catch Draco unawares.  
  
The Headmaster suddenly smiled, a slightly indulgent smile that set Draco's back up immediately. It was almost as if the old bugger had read his thoughts, Draco thought uneasily.  
  
"There is someone here who is very anxious to speak to you, Mr. Malfoy. Especially in view of your previously unsuspected, 'special' gift."  
  
"I'll just bet he is," Draco muttered bad-temperedly. "Couldn't wait until I'm well, could he?"  
  
The Professor smiled again. "Well, the nature of his business is rather urgent. He couldn't—oh, here he is."  
  
Professor Dumbledore turned as he heard the door open. Bill Weasley, closely followed by Ginny, entered the room. The look on Ginny's face said she was determined to stay.  
  
"Ah, Miss Weasley, thank you. Would you mind waiting with Madam Pomfrey?" Again, the Headmaster turned his back on her as though he just assumed she would be a good little girl and toddle back to Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Yes, sir, I would mind," she said suddenly. She was stiff with anxiety, as she'd never really challenged an authority figure before. But she held her ground. "I think I'd rather wait right here."  
  
Three pairs of eyes fixed on her, one with shocked amazement, one with mild surprise and the last, gray and warm, with obvious approval.  
  
"Er, Ginny," Bill started, slightly embarrassed.  
  
The Headmaster cut him off.  
  
"And why do you want to stay?"  
  
Ginny relaxed slightly. He wasn't going to order her off, at least not yet. "I think I need to hear what Draco has to say. And he needs to hear what I have to say. There are parts of the story I don't know, and I'm sure it's the same for him."  
  
Bill looked from his little sister, who seemed to have grown up while he wasn't looking, to Professor Dumbledore. He would go with whatever the Headmaster said, until it came to discussing what had brought him to Hogwarts in the first place. But he was vastly interested in the proceedings. If he didn't know that Malfoy was the one person in the whole world his little sister loathed (she'd told him so in her last letter), he would swear she had a thing for him. But extreme circumstances could create extreme reactions. Stranger things had happened.  
  
Professor Dumbledore studied Ginny for another moment, then nodded. "Perhaps you should introduce Mr. Malfoy to your brother Bill. I'm afraid I gave him quite the wrong impression."  
  
Draco thought the Professor could say that again. He'd been surprised as hell when the tall, slender, good-looking redhead had entered his room. He'd expected Ron, followed, naturally, by Potter. He'd seen Bill Weasley from a distance before, but had no idea what the man could want with him. Virginia was leading her brother over, obviously delighted with herself.  
  
"Draco, I'd like you to meet my brother, Bill. Bill, this is the person who saved my life. Draco Malfoy."  
  
Virginia also obviously expected him to shake hands with her brother. Well, he wouldn't do it. She would have to learn that she couldn't manipulate him that easily.  
  
Bill put his hand out, and Draco, after only a second's pause, took it. Weakling, he berated himself. But he found that her look of expectant pleasure had been more powerful than his childish fit of temper.  
  
"Weasley," he murmured.  
  
"Malfoy," Bill returned. "I've heard a lot about you lately. Mostly bad, but not all."  
  
"Bill!" Ginny cried, flushing and looking ready to strike her brother.  
  
Draco, on the other hand, smiled. This Weasley was different from Ron. He'd just insulted Draco, but he'd been so nonchalant about it, just as Draco would have done.  
  
"I'm surprised that you listened to such lies," he said, releasing Bill's hand.  
  
"Are you saying you're not really that bad?"  
  
With a classic superior smirk, Draco answered, "Not at all. I'm saying I'm no good!"  
  
Bill blinked, then roared with laughter. Ginny looked from one to the other, confused, but smiled cautiously. Draco gave a small chuckle, which surprised him.  
  
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, at least you're all getting on well enough," he began, but Bill interrupted him.  
  
"Begging pardon, sir, but I have yet to meet a Malfoy I get on with," he quipped, slanting a glance to see how Draco took this.  
  
"Well, you have the advantage of me, there, Weasley. I get on with one Weasley," he looked pointedly at Ginny. "But that's probably because there are so many of you, and so few of us."  
  
Bill burst out laughing again. Ginny looked even more confused. They were insulting each other, but they seemed to be enjoying it. It must be a male thing, she thought with disgust. She finally sat in one of the chairs, suddenly feeling very tired.  
  
Bill turned to the Headmaster and gave him a small bow. "Your pardon, sir. You were saying?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore nodded and sat himself in one of the other chairs.  
  
"As I was saying," he said, his voice only a trifle annoyed, "as you seem to be—er, as you seem not to be at each other's throats, let's get started. I should like to hear the events that led up to Mr. Malfoy's spectacular rescue of Miss Weasley yesterday."  
  
Ginny swallowed, then opened her mouth to speak, but Draco spoke up before she could.  
  
"It all started last summer, sir," he said quickly. "On the train from London."  
  
The Headmaster's eyebrows shot up, Bill leaned closer, and Ginny frowned. Last summer? That couldn't be. He was going to lie!  
  
"On the train, Mr. Malfoy? What happened on the train? Did Miss Weasley abuse or offend you somehow?" The Professor's comment was closer to the mark than he could know.  
  
"Well, you might say so," Draco agreed.  
  
He explained how he'd run into Ginny and instead of running off, scared, she'd acted as though he didn't exist. He went on to tell of the months of his gradually increasing bullying, all of which she ignored. Then he came to what he considered the straw that broke the camel's back. Here she was, a sixth year, Gryffindor, female, and she made him look a fool. Draco paused only for a moment, then plunged on to tell of how he attacked her and planned to do so again, when she'd taken matters into her own hands and imprisoned him. He glanced at Bill to see how he was taking this. If it had been Ron standing there, he knew the git would have lunged for his throat long since. Bill, however, was merely looking at him calmly, seeming to be sizing him up. Then the large, intelligent brown eyes, so like Virginia's, moved to his sister. Draco followed Bill's gaze.  
  
Ginny had listened; shocked that Draco had gotten everything so wrong. How could he have thought she was ignoring him? She'd been scared witless whenever he confronted her. THAT was why she didn't speak. That was why she seemed to look through him; she was so afraid, she couldn't look away or even focus. Amazing that all she'd have had to do was to run away from him to make him leave her alone!  
  
Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. At length he said, "Most appalling. I find it difficult to accept that this has been going on in my school. Under my nose. Perhaps I am too old for this job."  
  
Both Ginny and Bill began to protest, but he raised his hands for silence.  
  
"But that's neither here nor there. You've left your story half finished, Mr. Malfoy. Please continue."  
  
Ginny jumped in there. "Excuse me sir, but I think I should continue. To give you both sides of the story, so to speak."  
  
Draco frowned at her, but she ignored him.  
  
"Very well, Miss Weasley, you continue."  
  
Ginny backtracked a little, explaining about how frightened she'd actually been whenever she encountered Draco. She gave an abbreviated version of his attack, then her plan to lock him up until he agreed to leave her alone. She also explained about Ariel's part, and using Draco's owl to send her false message to his parents.  
  
"Ahhhh," Professor Dumbledore interjected. "That would explain what appeared to be, at first, a suicide note."  
  
He rummaged through a pocket in his robe and withdrew a tightly folded bit of parchment. He opened it and adjusted his glasses. Then he read:  
  
" ' Dear Father,  
  
Since I know you and Mother think I'm a weak little ferret and would rather not suffer my presence at this festive time of year, I have decided to jump into the lake and drown myself, thereby relieving you from the burden of my company.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Draco'"  
  
Ginny's cheeks burned, but Draco sat up straighter.  
  
"Here, where did you get that?" he demanded.  
  
"From your trouser pocket, where you were keeping it," the professor said calmly. He pulled a battered green ribbon from his pocket, as well, saying, "That's one of the reasons you're in the isolation room. We didn't want you doing any harm to yourself. But, I can see now that that wasn't a valid concern. And," he added, lifting the ribbon, "we found this as well. Not really your colour."  
  
He gave Draco a speculative look, but Draco simply stared back. The Professor shrugged and casually folded the parchment. He wrapped the ribbon around it and moved to put it back in the pocket. Ginny blushed more furiously, trying not to look at anyone, especially not at Bill.  
  
"Well, that looks familiar," he said blandly, taking in Draco's stiff expression and Ginny's blush. "Looks just like one of the set of ribbons me an' Charlie got you for your birthday, luv."  
  
"Those are my things, and I'd like to have them back," Draco said finally.  
  
Professor Dumbledore lifted one of his silvery shaggy brows at him but removed the small packet and tossed it onto the bed.  
  
"Now, Miss Weasley, if you care to continue?" he said, his expression mildly amused.  
  
Ginny thought for a moment, then began her story again. She tried to be brief, especially when she got to the part where Crabbe was threatening her in the tunnel. She also omitted to mention trying to feed Draco some of her mum's fudge, and when he kissed her in the tunnel. She emphasized Draco's part in her rescue and took the blame for being in danger on herself for not releasing Draco or at least giving him his wand back so he could release himself.  
  
Draco took up the tale from there, telling how he escaped, how he followed the blood trail and guessed where Crabbe would be taking Virginia, and how, both with and without magic, he was able to subdue a much larger, healthier opponent. He made much of Virginia's own strength and heroism and told both the Headmaster and Bill that the fault was his for trying to hurt her in the first place.  
  
Bill looked alternately amused and a bit shocked, but still didn't seem on the verge of violence, as Ron would have been. The Headmaster looked thoughtful, but dissatisfied.  
  
"Why didn't you go to your head of house at the first attack? That would have prevented this whole unfortunate affair."  
  
Draco thought calling everything that had happened 'unfortunate' was slightly understating the situation, but he, too, was intensely interested in her answer. He turned his head to look at her, thinking absently how pretty she looked when she was confused and embarrassed.  
  
"I, er," she paused and took a deep breath. Then she said, all in a rush, "I was tired of being afraid of him. I wanted to prove to myself that I could take care of myself!"  
  
Draco was still a bit surprised that he'd so badly misinterpreted her actions. So this didn't come as much of a shock. But her next sentence did.  
  
"Besides, I promised to write to Ariel every day to tell her what was going on, in case anything happened to me."  
  
Ginny glanced at Draco but look quickly away as she met his eyes. He knew what she meant, though. Her friend was her insurance policy in case Draco, himself got away and hurt her. He now saw that being worried that she might leave him to rot if Crabbe and Goyle got to her was ridiculous. Her friend would have alerted Dumbledore and he would have been freed eventually. But that made him think of another question, this one for the Headmaster.  
  
"I'm wondering, sir," he said, "when I came out of the tunnel, there was a large crowd gathered already. How did you come to know Virginia was missing so quickly?"  
  
Now it was Ginny's turn to be interested.  
  
Professor Dumbledore took another folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. This was larger and looked like a letter. He unfolded it and adjusted his glasses again.  
  
"'Professor Dumbledore,  
  
I'm sending you a copy of a note I just received from Ginny Weasley, along with a letter I wrote a few days ago. I don't want to take the time to explain, but the letters should tell you everything you need to know. I think Ginny is trouble, but I can't do anything about it. Please, sir, don't ignore this. Please find her and help her! I'm getting my mum and dad to bring me back right away, but please hurry!'"  
  
He looked at Ginny and held up two more notes. "You know what these are?"  
  
Ginny nodded. "One is the note I sent to Ariel when I heard Crabbe and Goyle talking about kidnapping me. The other one is probably the letter Ariel wrote saying what I told her about my plan to make Draco leave me alone."  
  
The Headmaster tucked the parchment away again and shook his head.  
  
"Miss Weasley, I have to wonder what you were thinking. You had several opportunities to prevent this danger to yourself. And did you stop to consider that you put Mr. Malfoy in danger as well. Your actions, and Mr. Malfoy's are incomprehensible! I don't really know what to do, as you certainly cannot continue here as though nothing happened."  
  
Ginny looked wide-eyed at him, feeling the tears forming. She'd known she could possibly be expelled for what she'd done, but she'd never actually expected it to happen. The Headmaster looked sympathetic, but firm. She looked over to Bill, who shook his head sadly. Finally, she looked at Draco. She expected to find him giving her a sad, sympathetic look also, but he wasn't even looking at her. He was glaring at the Headmaster!  
  
"How can you say that?" he demanded. "None of this was Virginia's fault. If it hadn't been for me you know she wouldn't have ever done anything like this. It's my fault, not hers!"  
  
Draco was so mad, he wanted to jump up and confront Dumbledore right to his face. He was so weak, though, he couldn't do anything but glare. Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. He just continued in the sad, concerned voice.  
  
"What she would or wouldn't have done is unfortunately irrelevant. The facts remain: she took another student, you, prisoner, kept you locked up, and, by her actions, endangered your life as well as her own. Those are grave offenses."  
  
Ginny was looking forlornly down at her hands. She was depressed and tired. No, she wasn't tired. She was beyond tired. She was bone-weary. She was ready to just crawl back into her bed, roll into a ball and cry herself to sleep. That was when Bill spoke up.  
  
"Weren't you saying that Mr. Malfoy was looking at expulsion, as well? I think I might have a better idea for both of them."  
  
Both students' heads snapped up to look at him. He looked affectionately at Ginny and said, "I've already discussed my ideas with Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey and they both think it's a good idea if you agree. Why don't you go lay down and she'll come tell you about it? Besides, we have to discuss some other things with Malfoy."  
  
Bill's gentle tone almost did her in. She wanted to break down and cry right now. A quick glance at the Headmaster showed her that he was nodding. She wanted to just give in, but she couldn't leave Draco alone. Before she could protest, she heard her name.  
  
"Virginia." Draco's voice was quiet, but commanding.  
  
She saw that he was holding one hand to her. Without thinking about it, she stood and moved to the side of the bed. Neither she, nor Draco, saw the look Professor Dumbledore exchanged with Bill. Ginny took Draco's hand and he pulled her closer.  
  
"Go ahead, get some rest. I'll make sure they know it wasn't your fault."  
  
Ginny looked deep into his eyes, holding tightly to his hand.  
  
"But it's not—," she tried to say, but he cut her off.  
  
"It is," he told her simply. "Now go get some rest and let me listen to your brother. I'm not going anywhere, you know."  
  
He gave her a smile and lightly touched her cheek. She smiled back and nodded.  
  
"All right, then," she said finally. "I'll see you later?"  
  
"Count on it," he said with a devastating smile.  
  
Ginny finally turned and, with a smile for Bill and a nod to the Headmaster, left.  
  
Ginny walked slowly back to her bed. She saw that the healer was sitting beside her bed, a large book on her lap. Madam Pomfrey saw her and stood, placing the book on the bedside table.  
  
She took one look at Ginny's tired, pale face and said, "I TOLD that man…" She stopped abruptly, then continued in a more gentle voice.  
  
"I asked your brother to make sure you didn't get too tired, but you know what men are!"  
  
She bustled around, helping Ginny into the bed and propping her up on her pillows. As soon as Ginny was settled, Madam Pomfrey picked up the book and handed it to her.  
  
"This was your brother's idea, although the Headmaster and I agree that this right for you."  
  
Ginny looked from the healer to the book. It was bound in heavy maroon leather with the words 'The Hippocratic Institute' embossed in gold across the front. Under the words was an emblem. Two wands were crossed over a medical staff or caduceus with twin snakes twining up the staff. Under the large emblem were two smaller emblems, one of a single wand over the medical staff, and the other of just the caduceus. They were the official emblems of a master healer, a healer and a medic. Ginny looked back up to the healer.  
  
"Open it," she urged.  
  
Ginny opened the book, expecting to find pictures of students, teachers, and school buildings. Instead, it looked like a brochure advertising the facility. There was a course curriculum, requirements, and information about the school. Ginny began to feel a bit breathless. The school, she read, was located on the sunny shores of the island of Crete, it's general enrollment was for graduates of witchcraft and wizardry schools, but it occasionally took on exceptionally talented students who hadn't yet completed their basic education.  
  
"Do you mean for me to go here? Is that Bill's plan?" Ginny heard the catch in her own voice and cleared her throat.  
  
"Well, of course the choice is yours. And you would have to finish your basic education while you're there, but I think your talent merits it. But again, it is your decision. Look through the book and think about it. You don't have to decide now."  
  
The healer fingered her collar tab, where her own Healer's insignia was pinned. She wanted to say more, but the young Weasley girl had enough to think about right now. She merely brushed Ginny's cheek, pulled the curtains around the bed, then left. Ginny looked at the book on her lap, her thoughts whirling. She could be expelled from Hogwarts, or she could train to be a medic, maybe even a healer! She turned back to the first page, intending to read more closely. Whatever she decided, she was going to see what would happen to Draco first. As she read the opening paragraphs, the text blurred and she fell asleep.  
  
Draco looked at Bill, unable to digest what he'd just told him. He was recruiting for the Ministry of Magic. He was looking for wizards and witches with not only strong magical abilities, but with cunning, intelligence, and daring. Having some training in horsemanship, archery and fencing, all of which Draco had, was a definite plus. It didn't hurt to know something about Voldemort's methods and strengths, either. And, according to Bill, the fact that Draco hadn't elected to become a Deatheater the last summer (and how they knew THAT was certainly the million galleon question) had made him a definite prospect.  
  
As he tried to absorb the impact of Weasley's comments, part of his brain, the part not reeling from disbelief, bellowed in outrage. He hated everything about Weasley (his beautiful sister notwithstanding). He hated everything the Weasley family believed in. He would not help fight the one person who was trying to rid the wizarding community of the taint of Muggle influence. He might not agree with all the methods Voldemort's supporters used, but he agreed with the idea.  
  
"Look, I know this is something of a shock, but try to think about it. We're only trying to be prepared, to save innocent lives. And I think you could help us."  
  
Finally Draco found his tongue. "Do you honestly think I'm going to do anything to stop Voldemort from erasing MUGGLES from our culture!? Do you think I would turn away from everything in my life, everything I was raised to believe?"  
  
His voice was cold and hard, tightly controlled. Bill nodded at his words.  
  
"I know it's unexpected, but at least think about it. If nothing else, be practical about it. Do you really think Voldemort is going to win? Can you actually imagine that people are going to let him terrorize our community again? We're already moving to shut him down, but we need all the help we can get."  
  
Bill looked from Draco to Professor Dumbledore. The professor nodded and Bill turned back to Draco.  
  
"I, er, would add something else, but I don't think you'll like it."  
  
Draco's head was pounding, but he put on his best sneer. "I shouldn't think that would matter, Weasley," he drawled. "You've already as good as called me a traitor, and you're asking me to become one."  
  
Bill shrugged. "I suppose it looks that way to you. Anyway, you prattle on a good bit about blood purity and getting rid of Muggles, so you obviously don't know that your precious Lord Voldemort," Bill couldn't help sneering himself, "was half Muggle himself?"  
  
"Liar!" Draco spat. Did this idiot really think he could be won over with such a pathetic lie? But something struck a chord in his mind. Something he'd heard earlier; something his father's voice had said when it had been railing against him.  
  
"I don't lie," Bill said calmly. "But if you don't believe me, ask your father. He's known about Tom Riddle's parentage since the beginning."  
  
"And who the hell is Tom Riddle?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore stood and pulled yet another item from one of his deep pockets. He handed it to Draco.  
  
"This is Tom Riddle. A handsome young man. He was Head Boy while he was here. Then he disappeared for several years, to reemerge as 'Lord Voldemort'. His mother was a respectable, but poor witch. She married a well-to-do Muggle, but he left her when he found she was a witch. Tom ended up in a Muggle orphanage, which should never have happened. We finally brought him back to our community, but by that time, he was too old for anyone to consider adopting him."  
  
Draco looked at the photograph, seeing nothing in the picture to relate to the disgusting creature he'd met several months ago. Nothing except the eyes. The eyes of the young man in the photograph were cunning, cold and cruel. They were the same eyes he'd seen when he'd met the man. He shivered, but still didn't want to believe.  
  
"So this is Tom Riddle. So what? That doesn't mean he's part Muggle."  
  
He couldn't suppress the memory of his father's words. ' Her pure magic, virgin's blood could have washed the Muggle taint from his blood.' But that might have been his imagination. Then he had an idea.  
  
"All right, Weasley, I'll take your advice. I'll ask my father. I'd like to send him an owl right now."  
  
Professor Dumbledore almost smiled.  
  
"That won't be necessary. He's here. He's actually the other reason you're in isolation. We had to send him away as he was yelling and threatening you while you were unconscious. I'll send for him."  
  
Draco felt himself go cold. His father WAS here? He had been talking to him? That meant what Weasley said must be true. Draco shook himself mentally. They could be bluffing! He'd see his father, and ask him about Tom Riddle. And he would ask him about the ridiculous story Virginia had told him, as well.  
  
"Fine," he answered. "Send for him."  
  
The Headmaster stood and moved to the door.  
  
Opening the door, he called, "Poppy, will you send Mr. Malfoy down? His son would like to speak to him."  
  
Then he turned back to Bill. "You'd perhaps, better stand at your sister's bedside. We wouldn't want a repeat of earlier."  
  
Bill nodded and hurried from the room. Draco watched him, then turned to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"What was that about?" Draco asked, feeling an uneasy chill down his spine.  
  
For the first time, Professor Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. He didn't look embarrassed, just a bit uncomfortable.  
  
"You would probably rather not know, but I find that hiding the truth is unproductive in the long run," the Headmaster said cryptically.  
  
He sat again, straightening his robes. Then he looked up at Draco.  
  
"You asked why there were so many of us looking for you already. Well, before I got Miss Johnson's frantic owl, I had a visit from your father. He was under the impression that something had happened to you, as well. He received Miss Weasley's note and believed that it was you writing it. Apparently, though, he sent a return owl that went unanswered. After a second unanswered note, he set out to see what had happened to you."  
  
The Headmaster removed his spectacles and polished them on a soft cloth he took from his pocket. Returning them to his nose, he continued.  
  
"He waited in my office. When we finally found you both and brought you to the hospital wing, I sent for him immediately. After hearing what few facts we had at the time, Lucius determined that the fault was Miss Weasley's and tried to attack her. Had her brother, Bill, not been on hand, he might have succeeded."  
  
Draco's mouth had dropped open and now hung that way. His father had attacked an unconscious girl? This was more unbelievable than Tom Riddle being half-Muggle! He wouldn't believe it. Closing his mouth, he crossed his arms across his chest and looked away.  
  
"It can't be wondered at, then, that I sent Bill to stand by at his sister's bedside. We took Lucius off to my office again, and, er, constrained him. Professor Snape has the spell to release him from my office and will bring him along shortly."  
  
Draco didn't want to believe anything Dumbledore said. But the man seemed so confidant and assured. It might still be a bluff, he thought. If his father didn't appear in a few minutes, he'd know it was a bluff. He'd just bide his time.  
  
The minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence. Draco's only relief was that the old man wasn't offering him false sympathy or camaraderie. He was sitting quietly, occasionally studying Draco's face, but otherwise leaving him alone. After about ten minutes, Draco moved impatiently.  
  
"It seems my father has left, after all," he drawled.  
  
"Unfortunately, that would be quite impossible. First, he could not leave my office without Professor Snape, and second, because he was quite adamant about seeing you immediately you awoke. I wish he would have left quietly when he found that you were alive, but that wasn't the case."  
  
Draco opened his mouth for a sarcastic reply when a discrete knock sounded from the door.  
  
"Come!" the Headmaster called.  
  
Draco watched as the door was thrown open. Lucius Malfoy, impeccably dressed in somber, silk robes of black and dark green, strode angrily into the room, Professor Snape following behind. Professor Snape's expression was that of someone who'd been given the disagreeable task of cleaning up after an unhousebroken puppy. A very LARGE unhousebroken puppy with digestive problems. Lucius' thin lips were twisted in his usual superior sneer, and the expression seemed to take in all the other occupants of the room, including his son.  
  
His gaze passed briefly over Draco and finally came to rest on the Headmaster.  
  
"Well, Albus, I see you are still keeping my son imprisoned. It wasn't enough that that Weasley brat started it, you're continuing it."  
  
"Ah, Lucius," Professor Dumbledore said lightly, rising to his full height and stepping closer to Draco's bed. "Remember that it was your own conduct that prompted our actions. Had we not found you on the verge of hexing your own son, and while he was unconscious, young Draco could have been enjoying the company of his fellow students on the general ward."  
  
Draco's eyes widened. That was too much. He waited for his father to deny Dumbledore's charge. Instead, Lucius sneered at the Headmaster.  
  
"Imposing discipline on one's own child is the prerogative of any parent. You had no right to interfere."  
  
The look Dumbledore turned on his father almost made Draco quail. His brows lowered and his eyes narrowed. He clenched his thin fists and advanced on Lucius Malfoy so quickly, Lucius stepped back and even started to raise his hands, as though to ward the Headmaster off.  
  
"Using hexes and curses, especially unforgivable curses, on an unconscious student under my care will not be tolerated!" he gritted through clenched teeth. "And trying to attack a defenseless girl, also unconscious, is unpardonable! The only reason you're not on your way to Azkaban right now is that I wanted your son to speak to you. He has some questions to ask you, though I think he has gotten some answers already."  
  
Lucius recovered from his fear quickly enough. "How dare you threaten ME? I'll have your job for this," he declared.  
  
"And you'd be welcome to it at this point. You tried before, but the Board of Governors is as unlikely to act against me now as then. Less so, I'd imagine. Now, I'll leave you two alone, but we will be right outside the door. I suggest you refrain from enforcing your 'parental discipline' rights as yet."  
  
The Headmaster turned to Draco. "I believe this is yours," he said, handing Draco a wand. Then he turned, brushed past Lucius and exited the room. Professor Snape looked at Lucius with unfriendly eyes.  
  
"Draco is still under my protection as his Head of House. I will take it unkindly if anything happens to him," the Potions Master said in a cold voice.  
  
"Do you think I'm any more frightened of you than I am of that old windbag? You must be joking! I'll do what I will with my son, and you would do well to keep your ugly, hooked nose out of it!"  
  
Draco felt another chill down his spine when he saw his head of house smile at his father. It was a cold, nasty smile he'd never seen before.  
  
"You're not afraid of us, Lucius? Too bad. You should be. You should be very much afraid of us."  
  
The Potions Master turned on his heel and left, though pointedly leaving the door open.  
  
Draco turned unbelieving eyes to his father. Lucius glared at Draco before demanding, "Well? Is it true? Did that conniving little Weasley brat actually overpower you somehow and lock you up?"  
  
Draco nodded, knowing all hell was about to break loose. That was all right, though. It was better than feeling the knots in his stomach that had begun when his father hadn't denied trying to hurt Virginia and him while they were unconscious.  
  
His father surprised him, though. "Tell me," he ordered, sitting on the chair Dumbledore had vacated.  
  
With a feeling of foreboding, Draco quickly related the bones of the tale. There was much he omitted or didn't elaborate on, but what he told was enough to send his father into a high rage. The thin, handsome face turned bright red and the features contorted into a mask of fury. Clenching his fists, Lucius advanced on his son.  
  
"Are you telling me that you risked everything for that little tramp? You revealed Salazar Slytherin's own secret passage, you fought your own kind, you returned the little whore to Dumbledore? Why? Do you want to fuck her that badly?"  
  
Anger welled up inside Draco. He hadn't even known he cared so much, but having his father say such things about Virginia was too much.  
  
"You'd better stop right now, Father," he said coldly in the brief pause Lucius left while he caught his breath. "Don't talk about Virginia that way."  
  
"Virginia? Virginia? You mean you actually call that Muggle-loving tramp by her name? If you wanted her that badly, son, you could have brought her to our master. When he'd taken her virginity, he would surely have rewarded you with her body! You could have fucked her to death if you wanted! Wh—," the rest of the sentence was lost as Lucius found himself unable to speak.  
  
He grabbed at his throat and looked with shocked eyes at Draco. Draco's wand was pointed at his father, and Draco's expression was deadly.  
  
"Sorry, Father," he said coldly. "I did warn you. I don't want to harm you, but now it's my turn to ask questions. I will release you, but you will not mention Virginia again, is that understood?"  
  
Lucius glared at Draco, but nodded.  
  
"Good," Draco said with a wave of the wand. "Now, tell me everything you know about Tom Riddle."  
  
Lucius had looked like berating Draco, but the question stopped him dead. His eyes darted away from Draco's face briefly before returning. Then he put on a false confused look.  
  
"Whatever do you mean, son? Who is Tom Riddle?"  
  
Draco gave him a half smile. "Never mind, Father. It probably doesn't matter. But I would like to know why 'our master', as you so inaccurately put it, would need a pure-blooded witch's virgin blood to, er, how did you put that, 'wash the Muggle taint from his blood? Why would he need to do that, if he is such a pure wizard himself? Unless, of course, the Headmaster was right and 'our master' is just a half-Muggle upstart orphan named Tom Riddle."  
  
Lucius Malfoy's face drained of colour. His fists clenched and unclenched in his lap and his expression became one of fury again. He slowly rose and approached the bed.  
  
"There always too much of your mother's blood in you, boy. No matter how I tried to beat it out of you, there it was, making you question, making you wonder, making you weak. You never accepted my master's right to rule. You never realized that by bringing him to power, we Malfoy's would eventually overcome him and become the most powerful Wizarding family in the world! Well, I've wasted enough time on a lost cause. I'll rid myself of the only two stains on my family name: you and your mother!"  
  
So rapidly Draco barely had time to react, Lucius pulled his wand from his pocket and shouted, "Avarda—,"  
  
He couldn't finish the killing curse, though. Even before Professors Snape and Dumbledore burst into the room, Lucius was hurled back against the wall, where he hung, pinned by Draco's spell.  
  
The professors looked from Lucius, hanging helpless and struggling against the wall, to the pale young man with the intent expression on his face, pointing his wand at his father again.  
  
"I should kill you," Draco sneered. "But it would get me locked up, and, more importantly, it would upset Virginia and Mother."  
  
Draco looked away and released his father. Lucius crumpled to the ground, groaning slightly.  
  
"All that power! You could have been more powerful than Voldemort!"  
  
Professor Dumbledore mumbled something to the Potions Master, who nodded and bound Lucius with a binding spell. He then levitated him and floated him from the room.  
  
The Headmaster looked sadly from the young man to the retreating form of his father. He'd known that either Draco would return to his father's influence or completely rebel against it. He hadn't wanted such an irrevocable break, but Lucius had forced it himself. If he'd used his much vaunted manipulative powers, he could probably have talked the boy around, but maybe not. The boy's bond with Ginny Weasley was much stronger than could be accounted for, given the events of the past few days. Unless they were fated to have been together.  
  
Professor Dumbledore shook his head sadly. If they were truly soul mates, they couldn't have chosen a worse time to discover one another. Their world was on the brink of war, and both of them, by their actions, had made it impossible for the Headmaster to do anything but expel them or find some form of redemption for them. And he knew that the price of redemption came very high. Sometimes it demanded the ultimate price.  
  
"Professor." Draco's voice pulled the Headmaster from his reverie.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco paused. What was he going to say? What could he say? Everything he'd ever believed, every thought he'd ever had, had been based on lies. He could barely face the Headmaster, knowing that the old man had been right about everything. And Virginia! How could she even look at him, knowing what his family was? He couldn't face her, that was certain. He didn't know that he would ever be able to face her.  
  
Finally, he said, "Send for Weasley. I've made my decision."  
  
  
  
A/N yes, yes, yes another cliffie, but this is where the story ends. The epilogue is barely started and I won't be done for about a day or two, but I'll be working hard to get it out so everyone has SOME fingernails left! Thanks to everyone. I just went through the older reviews, looking for whoever it was who pointed out that I didn't account for the note Ginny wrote and gave to Draco…I couldn't find it, but I'll look again when I have more time. Anyway, thank you for pointing out the inconsistency so I could correct it, which I did in this chapter. The epilogue takes place in four years, that's why it's not just chapter fourteen. I hope I didn't have any huge plot holes or other inconsistencies, but if so, please e-mail me at krflex@aol.com so I can try to correct them. Again, thank you, everyone for being so encouraging. Excuse the language and I hope that no one reading is under 17, because the next chapter might be NC-17, for suggestiveness, not for any real naughtiness. YES, YES it is a love story, but I wanted them to grow up a bit. Lots of affection and mom hugs to everyone! K 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Professor Dumbledore gave Draco a strange look. Draco wished he could accuse the old man of gloating, but the look was almost anguished. As though he were truly sorry about the scene that had just happened. Draco looked away quickly, feeling something he hadn't felt in years. Tears were stinging his eyes. He angrily brushed them away, determined not to let the old bastard see him cry. He was a Malfoy, by the Fates! He did not cry! He glared up at the Headmaster, but the man was no longer there. Draco let his expression relax and felt a mixture of anger and reluctant gratitude engulf him. Dumbledore must have left to give him time to compose himself. He was angry that he needed the time, but couldn't help feeling grateful that he wouldn't humiliate himself in front of the Headmaster. Draco may have thrown off his father's influence, but throwing off the teachings of a lifetime would take much, much longer.  
  
He stared ahead, trying to think of what he was going to say to Bill Weasley. He hated to admit that Bill had pegged him, understanding that by not accepting Voldemort's mark, Draco had as good as declared himself as a non-follower. That didn't mean he was a traitor, though. He would lend his strength, his talent and his magic to Bill Weasley's cause, not because he believed in it, but because he no longer believed in his own father's cause. But he would not betray the people he'd grown up with. Crabbe and Goyle aside (their actions against Virginia had given them a one-way ticket to Azkaban or some other prison facility anyway) there were many Slytherins who felt as he did. They weren't evil; they just wanted to keep their community pure. He would fight to the death, if need be, but he would not inform on anyone.  
  
As Draco was pondering what would happen to him now, Bill Weasley entered the room. The tall young man closed the door behind him. Draco looked up questioningly. Wasn't Dumbledore going to be in on this, too?  
  
Bill pulled a chair closer to Draco's bed and sat, stretching his long, lean legs out in front of him. He lightly clasped his hands over his mid- section. Bill studied Draco as he had earlier, but there was something different in his expression; something Draco couldn't read.  
  
Draco leaned back into the pillows more comfortably and thought idly how much Virginia looked like her brother without looking the least bit masculine. Suddenly Bill smiled.  
  
"Yeah, I know. We take after our dad. The rest of 'em take after Mum."  
  
Startled at having his thoughts read so accurately, Draco snapped, "And what about Percy the Prig? Who does he take after?"  
  
Instead of bristling, Bill chuckled. "Is that what they call him? It fits. He's a git and a prig, but he's basically a good man. Takes after our uncle Roland, though. Ro's a Squibb and an accountant, so we don't talk about him much."  
  
In spite of himself, Draco felt a smile forming on his lips. He tried to stifle it.  
  
"A Squibb in the illustrious Weasley family?" He rolled his eyes heavenward. "'Fates! What has this world come to? Maybe you'd better back off a bit, it might be catching!"  
  
Bill chuckled again. "Too late. I'd say that unless you're as pathetic at snogging as you are at insults, you're already infected."  
  
Draco felt his cheeks grow warm. Was Bill Weasley actually sitting there, calmly asking if he and Virginia had been kissing? Or was he trying to find out whether Draco had tried to take advantage of his sister? Draco lowered his brows.  
  
"And I'd say you should keep your long, Weasley nose out of my business," Draco answered, his voice hard and flat.  
  
Now Bill rolled his eyes. "By Merlin, Malfoy, you're touchier than a dragon with an icicle up his arse! Nice, by the way, not to, er, kiss and tell. I half expected some snide comment slandering my sister. Half expected to have to knock your bloody teeth in. You're definite NOT the person I expected, given what Ron and Ginny have written about you."  
  
Draco was about to sneer at Bill's ability to 'knock his teeth in', but the mention of Virginia's name brought him up short. He asked before he could stop himself.  
  
"Virginia wrote about me?"  
  
Then he wanted to kick himself. But he was in for another surprise. Bill didn't gloat. He smiled, but it was a friendly smile.  
  
"Hmmm," he said in a musing tone. "What exactly did Ginny write? Ah, yes, I remember." Bill slanted Draco a look full of mischief. "She called you 'brute', 'bully', 'sneering, superior swine', 'stupid git', and 'arrogant pig'." He paused to consider again. "Know what I told her?"  
  
"That you'd knock my bloody teeth in first chance you got?" Draco answered with a smirk. He wasn't really interested in what Bill had told Virginia. Probably something like 'tell your Head of House' or 'have Ron beat him up'.  
  
Bill grinned, the mischief still glinting in his eyes.  
  
"I told her it sounded like you were suffering from a bad case of raging hormones. I told her she should corner you and give you a big kick in the arse, or a big kiss on the lips. You'd either follow her around, completely hooked, or avoid her like she was insane. Either way, it couldn't hurt." Bill looked down and said in a mock-mournful tone, "Her reply wasn't fit for mixed company, though."  
  
Draco couldn't reply. He could only blink stupidly at Bill. There had to be something wrong with the man. He advised his only sister to KISS the monster who was terrorizing her? Was he mad? Apparently not, part of his brain whispered. All it had taken was a bit of fudge and a hand knitted sweater and Draco had been done for. Or maybe it had been the knee in the groin? Either way, he had to think that Bill was probably right. Maybe he had been interested in Virginia since bumping into her on the train, but being a Weasley, he hadn't known how to approach her. And with him being a Malfoy, his pride probably wouldn't have let him admit he found her attractive, anyway.  
  
He wished he had time to consider this, but all the mischief had left Weasley's face. The man was watching him and it was making Draco uncomfortable. What was Weasley up to? Was he waiting for some sort of positive response? Waiting for a declaration of undying love for his sister? Whatever it was, Bill finally seemed to give up waiting. He straightened and leaned forward in his chair.  
  
"All right, Malfoy. Enough of this. You asked me to come, I'm here. Have you made a decision?"  
  
Draco straightened too, at least as well as he could. He remembered Virginia's strong hands helping him sit up in the first place and prayed this Weasley wouldn't try to help him. Bill just watched, his face impassive. At least that made it easier to begin.  
  
"I'll join you and you're band of 'merry men' or 'jolly johnnies' or whatever you call yourselves. I personally think you're all insane, but as my father also seems to be mad as a hatter, insanity must run in my family. We'll probably all be killed and not a soul left to mourn us, but that's just fine with me."  
  
Bill didn't say anything at first. He tilted his head to the side and gave Draco a speculative look. Then he sat back and stretched out again.  
  
"You know, Malfoy, even though you're only, what? Seventeen?" he paused, an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Eighteen, last month," Draco supplied  
  
"Right. Even though you're only eighteen and still in school, I think you have a better understanding of the situation than half the grown men I've met. Many of us will die. Many of us seem mad. It might seem futile to fight so awesome and imposing an enemy. But we will fight. And I think we'll win. I'll be glad to have you join us, but I want you to think about it seriously."  
  
Bill paused for a moment, considering his next words.  
  
"You know my brother Ron hates you. As do most of his friends. And I understand you've given them ample reason to."  
  
Draco felt his face tighten. He hated Ron, too. As he'd hated all the Weasleys; instinctively, instantly. Until recently. With most of them, he figured the feeling would fade as he got older, but he would always hate Ron. He'd always thought of Ron as Potter's sidekick; poor, pathetic, always second best. He would always be the personification of everyone Draco had been taught to feel superior to. No matter how much everything else in his life changed, there was just too much between them for Draco to believe he would ever come to tolerate the youngest Weasley boy. The thoughts flashed through his head in an instant and he banished them just as quickly. While Bill Weasley might tolerate his interest in Virginia, Draco doubted he would approve of his feelings about Ron. Besides, the man was too damned good at guessing what Draco was thinking.  
  
Bill watched his expression closely, but when it was obvious Draco wasn't going to respond, he continued.  
  
"Don't get me wrong. Ron has his own problems, and his opinion of you doesn't really matter to me. I just want you to understand that most people have a certain perception of you. When they find you've saved my sister, risking your own life to do it, they'll start coming round. But you're going to have a hard time of it, at first. The people you'll be working with, most of them, have suffered because of your father, and they're just not going to accept you at first."  
  
"Hell with them, then," Draco said flatly. "I'm not trying to win a popularity contest."  
  
Bill held a hand up and continued. "Just hear me out. I WANT you to join us. I thought, and still think you'll be very important in our victory. I just want you to go into this with your eyes open. People are going to dislike and distrust you at first. Some of them, unfortunately, are never going to accept you. The friends you have now are going to call you a traitor, and your family might cast you off, as well."  
  
Draco felt his mouth go dry. He'd known these things instinctively, but hearing Bill say them so calmly brought them home as nothing else had. He made himself shrug.  
  
"What does it matter? I'm as good as dead to my family now, and I've never had what YOU would consider friends, anyway."  
  
His voice trembled only slightly, but it didn't break.  
  
Bill nodded. "Right, then. In a few days, as soon as you're recovered-," he began, but was interrupted.  
  
"Hell with that!" Draco said harshly. "I'll join you but I want a few things from you first."  
  
Bill had begun to stand, but he sat again and leaned forward, elbows on knees, waiting. Draco knew he wasn't really in a position to bargain, but if Weasley didn't know it, too bad. Besides, what he was going to ask wasn't really unreasonable.  
  
"First, I want to leave soon, today. I'm well enough to travel, and I heal fast. If I'm not worried, you shouldn't be."  
  
Bill considered, then nodded. "Fine. I'm leaving in a few hours, so if you think you can stay on your broom for a full night's riding, you're welcome to follow me. What else?"  
  
"I have to owl my mother. She has to get out of the house before my fa- before he gets home. And I need to buy her some time."  
  
"What do you mean, 'buy her some time'?"  
  
"She hasn't any money of her own. She has to have time to sell some things, get enough together to take care of herself, without my, er, that man stopping her." Here, Draco bit his lip, knowing his mother to be useless without someone stronger to think for her. He'd do it himself, but he was going with Bill. Maybe he should postpone joining Bill, just find out where to show up.  
  
"Look, Malfoy, I don't have a problem with that. I even think my father could come up with something on your, er, him," he amended hastily at Draco's look. "But I've met your mother. No offense, she's probably the most beautiful woman I've seen, but she is a bit," Bill paused, not knowing how Malfoy would take what he was going to say.  
  
Draco knew what Weasley was trying to say and probably would have been offended, had he not been thinking the same thing.  
  
"I think the word you're looking for is 'hopeless'," Draco said with only a small bit of acid in his voice.  
  
"Well, no, not hopeless," Bill answered. "Just, er, inexperienced? She's never taken care of herself, has she?"  
  
Draco shook his head. It was definitely a problem. Both of them sat, thinking, for several minutes  
  
"I have an idea, but I'm not sure it would answer," Bill said finally.  
  
"I haven't much choice, have I?" Draco snapped, then sighed. "Sorry, I'm just worried about her. What's your idea?"  
  
"I, er, know Ginny told you about the bad blood between our families. I still don't know exactly what happened myself, and I get the idea Ginny was only told so she could," he gave Draco a half-hearted grin, "avoid you."  
  
Heat spread over Draco's cheeks. He had no doubt that that was what Mrs. Weasley had in mind, little good it had done.  
  
"Anyway, I wonder whether my mum would consider taking your mum in hand, helping her out and getting her safely away from your-her husband. Would you object?"  
  
Draco hadn't even considered it. He couldn't imagine Molly Weasley would want anything to do with the Malfoys at all, much less actually help one of them.  
  
"Would she?" Draco asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief.  
  
"Good question," Bill admitted. "I'll send her an owl right away. If she doesn't, I'll find someone who will. Someone I trust, so you won't be worried."  
  
Again, Draco felt an overwhelming surge of anger and gratitude. He hated feeling grateful to someone he had felt he was superior to. But even in this short period of time, he was growing to respect this particular Weasley. Two out of nine wasn't bad, he thought.  
  
With great difficulty, he gritted, "Thank you."  
  
"Welcome," Bill answered, not making a fuss over the thanks. "I'll get on it straight away."  
  
"Wait," Draco said, lifting a hand as though trying to hold Bill back. "Just one more thing."  
  
Again, Bill settled back into his chair.  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"I have some personal things to take care of, you know. Pack, set my owl free, that sort of thing. When I'm done, before we go, I'd like to see Virginia for a few minutes. Alone."  
  
Bill looked resigned. "I thought you might ask. I didn't know you'd be going so fast and I told her you might want to see her. Unfortunately, she just had a sleeping draught, so she might be asleep. I-er,"  
  
He paused, looking embarrassed. "Look, Malfoy, just be careful with her. She's a very special person, but I think you know that."  
  
Draco nodded, surprised. He'd thought Weasley might refuse to let him see Virginia, or try to warn him off, but he didn't do either. He was just worried, as Draco would have been in his place. But he also seemed to know Draco wouldn't hurt her. Bill stood and paused for a second, as though waiting for other demands. Finally, he said, "I'll have Madam P send in your clothes as soon as she gets them," and he was off.  
  
Draco lay back, exhausted. He was surprised that Weasley hadn't objected to him seeing his sister alone. If it had been Ron, he would have tried to take Draco's head off, he was sure. He hadn't been looking forward to saying goodbye to Virginia. He had no idea what her reaction would be, but now he would never know. She was asleep and didn't plan on seeing her once he left Hogwarts. Hell, he'd probably be dead within a year, so it didn't really matter. Besides, he'd had little to offer her in the first place, but now he had nothing. No family, no friends, no money, nothing. And how could he really expect her to forgive and forget everything he and his father had done to her and her family? Part of him was still disgusted with himself for feeling anything for her in the first place. But that part of him had lost much of its power. He might feel disgusted with himself, but he didn't care.  
  
After a few minutes, though, Draco sighed and pulled himself up into a sitting position again. He could feel his strength coming back, though very slowly. He needed to mentally compose the letter to his mother, encouraging her to trust whoever Bill Weasley sent to her and not to worry about him. He wasn't looking forward to going back to Slytherin, though. Not very many things remained secret in a place like Hogwarts, so the rumours would already be flying. He might be in for a very unfriendly reception. He started to get out of the bed, but Medic Timmons walked in at that moment with a large box in his hands.  
  
"Professor Snape brought these for you," the medic said through stiff lips. "There are some clothes, shoes, and writing paper. He has the rest of your things in his office."  
  
Draco eyed the stocky, good-looking Magical Healing teacher, wondering at his attitude. Draco knew Virginia was one of his favorite students, so he wondered if the medic blamed him for Virginia's hospitalization. Not that he would be surprised. Draco blamed himself. But, the medic's expression wasn't one of blame or censure. He actually looked angry and jealous. Jealous? Was it possible that the man cared about Virginia as something more than a student?  
  
Timmons dropped the box on one of the chairs and stood back, practically glaring at Draco. He had his arms crossed aggressively over his chest, and Draco imagined that he might have been a back up Beater, as well as a medi- wizard for the Falmouth Falcons. He certainly had the build for it. Draco stood shakily, his entire body one large ache. He made his way to the chair and pulled out trousers, tee shirt and white school shirt. Lifting his hands to the hem of the hospital scrub shirt he was wearing, he gave the medic a hard look.  
  
"I assume I'm allowed to dress in privacy?" he asked, his voice only a bit sarcastic.  
  
The medic gave a snort of disgust and stomped out of the room. Draco pulled the cotton shirt over his head, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Crabbe hadn't held back, that was certain. He glanced down at the spectacular display of bruises covering his chest and abdomen. He knew the internal damage was mostly healed, bones and large organs more important to fix than soft tissue damage. But the bruising was secondary, and Madam Pomfrey probably hadn't been too concerned about it at present. With a sigh, Draco pulled his tee shirt on, then carefully stepped into the trousers. As he was buttoning the shirt, he considered the medic again. The man was only a few years older than Draco, probably what girls would consider attractive. But this was ridiculous. He was a teacher. What business did a teacher have being attracted to one of his students? And what was he doing here anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be on holiday right now?  
  
When Draco had added socks, shoes, tie and robe, he took some of the writing paper and the pre-inked quill from the box and pulled one of the chairs up to the bedside table. Sitting down, he pushed aside his worries about the medic and considered what to say to his mother. After a moment, he began writing. The letter to his mother was difficult to write, and Draco had to try several times before he had one he was happy with. He'd told his mother briefly that he'd had a falling out with Lucius that could rebound on her. He urged her to take anything of value she had, along with whatever clothing she needed and find somewhere safe to hole up. He said he had a friend named 'Bill' that could be trusted. Bill would send someone to help her get things together. Draco would send Archimedes to her to keep, but she shouldn't use her to send owls, as Archimedes was very distinctive. Draco told her he was going away for a while and he would send her the details later. He closed the letter sending his love, and hoping she wouldn't worry. He sealed the letter, feeling like he was sealing off his past life as well.  
  
That done, he rose and picked up his wand. Placing the wand and letter in his pocket, he moved to the door and opened it. He knew Virginia's bed would be in the main part of the wing. Most of the beds were empty, but two beds near the isolation room were occupied. There were prefects standing conspicuously across the hall from the beds, and the patients appeared to be bound to their beds. As he got closer, he saw that it was Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe seemed to be sleeping. His face was swathed in bandages with small slits for the eyes. Goyle was propped on his side, breathing heavily, with strange tubes coming out of his mouth. One of the tubes seemed to be draining the saliva from his mouth, but the other appeared empty. Probably oxygen, he thought. What could be healed magically had probably been done, but there were some things that just had to heal in the old fashioned way.  
  
Draco glanced at the prefects, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. He wondered why Granger wasn't here, but considering what these two did to another Gryffindor female, he wasn't surprised. The prefects watched him suspiciously, but didn't stop him. He continued on to the bed with the curtains drawn around it. Peeking in, he saw Virginia curled up on her side, apparently deeply asleep.  
  
Draco hesitated for a moment, wondering if he shouldn't just leave her a note. She wouldn't hear what he had to say anyway, and just looking at her made his insides knot up again. His feet took the decision away from his brain when they started moving to her bedside.  
  
She was asleep, her lips parted slightly, her short curls tumbled about her face. She was very pale, the freckles on her nose and cheeks standing out in stark relief. But she was beautiful. He really couldn't blame Timmons if he was attracted to her. She was brilliant in the man's field, strong and brave, and would become more beautiful with maturity. Draco reached out and brushed one curl away from her cheek. She sighed and rolled onto her back.  
  
"I'm leaving," he told her softly, knowing she didn't hear. "I wish I could stay here, with you, but I can't. I'm not the same person I was a week ago, but I don't know who I am, and I don't know what will happen to me. I just wanted to let you know that wherever I am, whatever I do, you'll always be there. I-," he stopped, unable to continue.  
  
I'll just give her a kiss on the forehead, he thought to himself. Just one small kiss. Then I'll go. He leaned over but her eyes fluttered open a bit at that moment. Draco's heart pounded. She was awake! But, no, her eyes were unfocused. She was still asleep.  
  
"Draco?" Her voice was soft and slurred; she was talking in her sleep.  
  
"Yes, love," he answered, wishing his heart would stop pounding. He leaned farther still, but instead of kissing her forehead, he brushed her lips with his.  
  
She sighed, her arms coming up to wrap around her neck. The hazy gaze suddenly focused and she smiled.  
  
"You're really here," she breathed.  
  
Draco tried to pull away. If he stayed now, he'd never be able to leave on his own. She wouldn't let go, though.  
  
"We haven't had our 'discussion' yet," she chided. Her voice was still slurred and sleepy, but her grip was strong.  
  
"We'll have to put it off a bit, love," he told her gently.  
  
"No, I don't think so," she insisted. Tightening her arms, she pulled him down again and pulled his lips to hers.  
  
Gods, he thought, clumsily sitting on the bed and gathering her into his arms. How could he ever leave now? Then he nearly gasped with pleasure when she pushed his lips open with hers and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Draco held her more firmly and opened more widely for her. She made a soft purring sound in her throat as her tongue moved smoothly over his. Then, his head spinning, Draco thrust his tongue into her mouth, doing what she'd done, caressing the soft warmth he found. Her hands began to move restlessly over his back, caressing, pulling him closer.  
  
Draco broke away from her mouth to rain kisses down her soft, arched neck. He swallowed hard when he saw the two fading bruises at the base of her throat and reverently kissed each one.  
  
"I promise," he whispered huskily, "I'll never, ever hurt you again."  
  
She sighed again, and slowly her arms relaxed. Draco watched as the eyes became unfocused again and she sank back into the pillows.  
  
She gave him a last, tired smile, then she was asleep.  
  
Draco stared at her for a moment, looking from her face with its still healing bruises and sticking plaster, to the evidence of his own violent treatment of her on her throat. He swallowed, still feeling her lips on his, making him lightheaded. But he looked at her injuries and felt his stomach knot up. Draco shook his head and suddenly realized what Bill had been telling him. Even if he, Bill, didn't object to his sister's interest in him, the rest of her family and all of her friends would. If he tried to stay with her, he would only hurt her. She would be torn between her family and him. That would tear her apart, and eventually that would kill any feelings she had for him. He couldn't bear to be responsible for a breach with her family. He could care less about them, but he did care about her. He couldn't do it. He had to leave.  
  
Draco stood, pain wracking his heart as he turned away. He walked through the curtains, and back to his room to wait for Bill. Ginny never saw him at Hogwarts again.  
  
Ginny woke suddenly, feeling a presence beside her. Looking up, she saw her brother, Bill, standing next to her and watching the curtains intently.  
  
She sat up and the book on the Hippocratic Institute slid from her lap onto the floor with a loud bang. Bill jumped like a scalded cat and spun around so fast, Ginny started laughing.  
  
"Lord, Gin, are you trying to scare me to death?" he demanded when he saw what had caused the noise.  
  
"Sorry, Bill. I forgot the book was there! What are you doing? You look like you're on guard or something!"  
  
Bill smiled weakly, putting a hand over his pounding heart.  
  
"I am, sort of. Lucius Malfoy's coming to visit his son, and I'm just making sure he doesn't take a detour."  
  
Ginny felt her skin crawl. She'd had no idea Lucius Malfoy was even in the school. But why would he come to see her? Had he already heard about Draco's interest? She was about to ask when they heard footsteps hurrying up the corridor. Then a silky, sneering voice, so like his son's, was heard.  
  
"Don't think I'm letting him get away with this. You have no right to keep me away from my son. And I will speak with that little tramp who caused this or heads will roll!"  
  
Ginny's eyes grew wide and she looked at Bill. "Am I the tramp he's talking about?" she whispered.  
  
Bill's face was flushed and angry, but he nodded. When the voice receded in the distance, Bill pulled up a chair and sat down with her.  
  
"I better tell you, Gin. Lucius Malfoy's not happy with you. He even tried to lay his hands on you when you were brought in. If I hadn't been here, he might have, too. Anyway, I busted him in the face and thought he was out for a while. Then they brought Draco in, but the healers were still working on you. Lucius took the opportunity to start in on him! That man is a piece of work. Pure bastard. And I don't want him anywhere near you. The things he said."  
  
Bill stopped, as though he'd already said too much. Ginny tried to get him to elaborate, but he wouldn't.  
  
"But," he finally said, "I will say that listening to that bloody bastard, I'm a lot more impressed with your Draco than I was before. To have THAT as a father, and still do the right thing by you, well, I'm surprised."  
  
Then Bill got down to business. He wanted the complete, unvarnished, and unedited version of what happened. He also wanted to know what her plans were.  
  
After a few false starts, Ginny told him everything. He mused for a moment, then said, "Well, better not tell Mum your sweater's ruined. And don't mention the fudge, either. She'll flip."  
  
Ginny had been looking very dejected, but he grinned at her. "Should have taken my advice, luv. A good kick in the arse, or a good kiss on the lips would have straightened things out all right and tight."  
  
Ginny managed a weak smile before he grew serious. "You understand that neither of you can stay here, right? You should go to the Hippo Institute, Gin, you'd be great there. And Malfoy-Draco, could be very useful to our cause."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked suspiciously.  
  
Bill sighed. "I guess I better explain," he said. "But you can't let any of this out!"  
  
He explained what he and his recruits were doing, infiltration, espionage, prepositioning people in case of war. He'd been working on this for over a year, but they felt that war would break out soon.  
  
"Draco's a good man, or he will be with time. But if he stays here, he won't be able to change."  
  
"Are you saying you plan on sending him lord knows where, to maybe be killed, or maimed? For your cause?"  
  
Ginny could feel the tears and tried to control them, but even though she knew Bill was probably right, she didn't want to believe him.  
  
"He's not even graduated, Bill! And he CAN change! I know it! Why do you have to take him away now?"  
  
Bill came over and held her hand. "It's still his choice, luv, and he hasn't made a decision, but I think it would be best for him and you right now. And, besides, it's not just him. You have to leave, too. Do you really think this can be kept a secret? And once it gets out, every enemy Dad has will be screaming for your blood! Every enemy Malfoy has will be screaming for his son's blood. There will be a war, but I don't want our family to be the cause. Ginny," he paused, then continued more gently, "you're wasted here. There's nothing they can teach you that would be more helpful than advanced medical training. You're good at it, always have been.  
  
"Even," he added with a small smile, "when us boys would rough each other up. You were just a little thing, but you'd heal us up, and never tell Mum!"  
  
Tears were coursing down Ginny's cheeks, but she nodded. She knew he was right. That didn't mean she had to like it.  
  
"Will I get to say goodbye?" she asked her brother.  
  
"If Mal-Draco has any say, I'm sure you'll be seeing him," Bill assured her.  
  
Just then, Medic Timmons pushed through the curtains. He was carrying a tray with a mug of liquid, and looked extremely concerned.  
  
"How are you feeling, Gin-Miss Weasley?" he asked with a quick glance a Bill. Then he moved to the bedside and put the tray down.  
  
"I'm feeling better, sir," Ginny said with a small sniffle. She wiped her eyes quickly, not liking her teacher to see her crying. "But what are you doing here? I thought you were on holiday?"  
  
"I was the last teacher to see Malfoy," the medic's voice hardened slightly, "before he disappeared. Professor Dumbledore called me back this morning."  
  
He took her hand and chafed it between his. "You're still very cold. You need to get rest. I've brought a mild draught that will help you sleep."  
  
Ginny lowered her brows in confusion at his voice, first angry, then tender. She pulled her hand away, somehow feeling uncomfortable with this man who was, until that moment, her favorite teacher. She was missing something, but didn't know what it was.  
  
She looked at Bill, seeing his expression was also confused. He looked from Ginny to the medic, then widened his eyes. He opened his mouth, but there was a commotion outside the curtains. Professor Snape pulled the cloth back and glared at Bill.  
  
"I'm taking this-person," he motioned to Lucius Malfoy's still struggling form floating in the air behind him, "to the headmaster's office. I think you will be summoned soon enough. When I'm finished with this-garbage-I will collect Draco's things and leave them with the healer."  
  
The curtain was yanked shut and they heard Professor Snape and his charge move back up the aisle and out of the ward. Ginny turned wide eyes on Bill.  
  
"What did he mean, 'collecting Draco's things'? Are you-," she paused, seeing Bill's concerned look. "Er, are they taking him to prison? They can't! HE SAVED MY LIFE!"  
  
Bill glanced at the medic, looking uncomfortable. Ginny looked at him, too, noticing that he looked outraged.  
  
"Prison is where that guttersnipe belongs," he muttered. "He nearly caused you to be killed! I hope he gets the kiss!"  
  
Both Bill and Ginny looked shocked at the mention of the most dread punishment that could be inflicted. A Dementor's Kiss left the victim alive but brainless and soulless. But most of the Dementors had already thrown in with the Dark Lord, so it was a groundless fear. Ginny shuddered anyway, and Bill glared at the medic.  
  
"Would you excuse us? I want to speak with my sister alone."  
  
"But, her medicine-," he began.  
  
"I'll make sure she takes it," Bill said firmly.  
  
Timmons turned to Ginny, but Bill cut him off.  
  
"I only have a short time. Now, please?"  
  
Timmons could do nothing but go.  
  
"Okay, Gin, you know what we discussed with Mal-Draco. I think he may have decided to come with me. But don't worry, Severus is just collecting his things so he doesn't have to go back to Slytherin. He won't be ready to travel for a few days, so you should be able to see him. And I hope you remember-."  
  
There was a discrete cough outside the cubicle and Professor Dumbledore entered. "Young Mr. Malfoy would like to see you," he told Bill.  
  
"Damn," Bill said quietly. "Gin, just try to keep in mind what's best for everyone right now. Now, take your draught, luv, and I'll be off."  
  
He lifted the mug and watched while Ginny drained the contents. He smiled at the face she pulled and gave her a peck on the cheek.  
  
"See you later, luv. Now get some rest."  
  
Ginny lay back and watched as the Headmaster and Bill left her alone. Her eyelids grew heavy and she felt a wonderful languor spread over her. The sleeping draught might be mild, but it worked fast. Ginny was asleep within minutes.  
  
The next she knew, Ginny heard a voice. She couldn't make out the words, they seemed to be coming from a great distance. But the voice was Draco's. He was here! But she couldn't see him. Her whole body seemed heavy and slow, and she couldn't seem to speak. Then she realized she was asleep. She had to wake up. Something told her it was very important that she wake up, now! Ginny fought the lazy warmth that was surrounding her, and forced her mind to work. Open your eyes, you lazy cow, she ordered herself.  
  
Her eyelids fluttered, but she still couldn't see clearly. She felt warm lips touch hers and electricity shot through her. She opened her eyes a bit more and saw Draco's thin, hard face just above her.  
  
"You're really here!" she breathed as joy filled her.  
  
He was trying to pull away from her, but Ginny wasn't about to let him go. Not on your life, she thought ferociously.  
  
"We haven't had our 'discussion' yet," she chided. Her voice sounded slurred and weak, but she wasn't about to let him off that easily.  
  
"We'll have to put it off a bit, love." He'd called her 'love', Ginny thought happily. And his voice was so tender!  
  
"No, I don't think so." Ginny tightened her arms.  
  
Her lips touched his and it was like magic! She wanted more, but the medicine she'd drunk was already creeping back, trying to pull her back into sleep. No, she thought desperately, pulling Draco closer, kissing him harder. Then he kissed her back, a deep, desperate kiss that left Ginny breathless. Too soon, he pulled his lips away, but he only moved them to her throat. Ginny felt the rumbling moan in her throat and couldn't believe that sexy, sultry sound came from her.  
  
He kissed the base of her throat, then whispered in a strangled, husky voice, "I promise I'll never, ever hurt you again."  
  
Ginny sighed happily. Stay with me, she thought, wondering if she'd actually said the words. But it didn't matter. She would tell him later. Then, finally, she sank back into sleep.  
  
The hospital wing was dark when Ginny woke, but she felt a deep, searing sense of loss. She remembered Draco coming to her, kissing her. She remembered he'd said something to her before she woke, but couldn't make out the words. But something was wrong. He'd been here, kissing her, but something didn't fit. Ginny reached up to yank at the uncomfortable neck of her hospital gown and it hit her. He'd been fully dressed! He hadn't been in hospital scrubs, but neatly dressed in pants, shirt and robe! He was leaving!  
  
Throwing back the blankets, Ginny shot out of the bed. She hurried past the prefects, still guarding their charges, and toward the isolation room. By the time she got to the door, she was moving at a dead run and panting heavily. The door was open. Ginny burst into the room, suddenly relieved to see the candle burning. They wouldn't leave a candle burning in an empty room. Then she stopped. The room wasn't empty. Professor Dumbledore was sitting in one of the chairs, looking at her sadly. He motioned to one of the chairs and said, "I thought you'd come. Please sit, we have to discuss your future."  
  
Five days later, Ginny was standing on the platform of the Hogsmeade station, waiting for the weekly supply train from London. Ariel had arrived the day after Draco had left, and had stood staunchly at her bedside while Ron had railed at her. Oddly, though, when Harry tried to add his own condemnation, it was Ron, and not Ariel, who had put him in his place.  
  
"This is a family matter, Harry!" Ron had hissed. "And just because you and Cho had a fight, doesn't give you a right to sniff round my sister! So back off!"  
  
Harry had retreated in affronted silence, and Ron had finally calmed down a bit. Hearing his own harsh words from Harry's mouth seemed to have put things into perspective. He'd finally convinced Ariel to let him talk with Ginny privately.  
  
"Look, Ginny," he had said finally, "If you'd only told me he was bothering you, none of this would have happened. I'd have taken care of Malfoy."  
  
Ginny had sighed. How could she explain that Ron never needed anyone to tell him when Harry or Hermione were distressed, so it hurt terribly that she, his own sister, should have had to spell it out for him. And there was no way he would understand that even after what had happened, what she'd been through directly or indirectly at Draco's hands, she felt such a strong attachment that it was tearing her up. At her continued silence, Ron had awkwardly taken her hand and tried to comfort her.  
  
"Its for the best that he left, Gin, you'll see," he had assured her.  
  
Ginny remained in hospital for the next three days and spent her last day at Hogwarts packing and avoiding everyone except Ariel. The tall black girl stayed by her side, comforting Ginny with her presence. She didn't offer any empty platitudes, she just was there. Ginny was extremely grateful. Ron and Ariel were the only students Ginny allowed to see her off. Finally, with tears and promises to write, Ginny boarded a carriage to Hogsmeade Station and never entered Hogwarts again.  
  
At the station, Ginny went over her plans. She would travel back to London, where her parents would meet her. They would take her to the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Magical Travel, where she would use a special port key to transport her and her belongings to the Hippocratic Institute. Then her new life would begin. Ginny looked back only once. She saw the castle in the distance and coldly turned her back on it. She remembered the last words Draco had ever said to her. "I promise I'll never, ever hurt you again."  
  
The train had unloaded and was getting ready to pull away, when Ginny finally boarded.  
  
"You lied, Draco Malfoy," she whispered. Then she buried her face in her hands and cried. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

A/N: Good grief. This is the story from hell! It never ends! It's like those scenes in the movies where the heroine is standing at the top of the stairs, looking down a nice normal corridor when suddenly the camera perspective changes and the corridor now looks miles long! It just keeps getting longer! This was supposed to be the end of the story, but it's like rabbits! It just keeps multiplying! I'm very sorry and I promise (I think) that the next chapter really is the last in this ridiculously long and convoluted tale! And apologies to w&mlaw, I stole her name, but I'll give it back as soon as the chapter is over. And sorry about the cheap dialect! Next time I'll make the story take place in America where I'll get the regional dialects right. K  
  
Chapter Fifteen (I think)  
  
The morning air was frigid and cold with mist covering the small clearing. The shapes of several tents of various sizes from two-person to six-person could be seen through the swirls of mist. These tents weren't ordinary tents, though. They were magical. Some had chimneys that gave off fragrant pine smoke; some had double canvas layers to help keep the heat inside. In the early morning light, though, most were dark and silent.  
  
Although no sign of movement could be seen or stir of activity could be heard, one of the tents held a wakeful, restless occupant. Draco Malfoy sat on his hard cot and stared moodily into the small fireplace on the opposite side of his small tent. At least the outside appeared small. Inside, however, there was room for two cots, a desk, a water closet and a fireplace. He was already clothed, but because of the news yesterday and the celebration last night, he knew it would be hours before most of the rest of the camp was ready to rise. He stood and crossed to the fireplace. His long, slender legs were encased in tough bicorn leather pants. Dragon hide boots shod his feet. The warm linen shirt he wore was old but neatly mended and clean. On the bed lay the battle robe he usually wore over his other clothes. He'd spent the last of his allowance money on it after he'd left Hogwarts, but it had been a good investment. It was dark green, of a special lightweight but warm material that had been charmed to repel magical attacks. Though fragile looking, the garment had worn better than most of his small collection of clothing. It looked more like a very long tunic with side slits from the hem to the hip and gave the wearer more freedom of movement, while still providing long sleeves and deep pockets for storing wands and other magical items. Draco found it perfect for the sort of hand-to-hand combat he and his band of freedom fighters had been engaging in for the last three years.  
  
Draco plucked the short knife from the wooden mantelpiece, where he had thrown it moments before. He frowned, remembering when the knife had been plunged into his former friend, Vince Crabbe. Crabbe was still moldering away in some wizard prison for his attack on Virginia Weasley. The Crabbe's apparently weren't rich enough to keep their little darling out of prison. Hell, Draco thought, disgusted, his own father had barely had enough to keep himself out of prison, although Lucius Malfoy's attack on two students at Hogwarts and his attempted use of an unforgivable curse had kept him tied up in the legal system long enough for Draco's mother to hide herself. Draco knew Lucius had not wasted any of his remaining fortune, now sadly depleted, in trying to find his wife, but had poured the remaining Malfoy assets into supporting Voldemort. Voldemort had repaid Lucius' loyalty by sacrificing the man to make good his own escape when Aurors had unexpectedly raided the Malfoy home. Rather than be taken prisoner, Lucius had consumed a deadly poison he had hidden in his robes. Draco's other former friend, Greg Goyle would have ended up in prison for his part in Virginia's abduction if he'd been a threat to anyone. But after consuming an entire pound of the Weasley twin's incendiary candy, Goyle required machines to help him breathe. He lived on a liquid diet because his stomach and intestines had been so severely damaged. Draco understood he was in almost constant pain, and just lay in his bed in his parents' house, waiting for death to finally take him.  
  
He hadn't thought of those two in a while. But the news they'd received yesterday had him thinking about a lot of things he'd tried to forget.  
  
Bill Weasley had written him that the war was officially over. There was still some resistance, and roving bands of renegades who would attack just to cause mayhem. But with the destruction of Voldemort, most of the fighting was over. Draco had been overjoyed to hear it. He was sick of the death and the carnage he'd seen and helped cause. He felt the darkness of the war to his very soul. It was one thing to talk about fighting for a cause, but the reality was the stench of rotting carcasses in the summer heat, the smell of your partner's vomit after the battle was over, the blood that never seemed to wash out of your clothes. The reality was finding frozen corpses on the battle field and living with the fact that you killed people and creatures who had someone (or something) waiting for them, anxious to hear any news on their loved one. The reality was than nothing, NO cause was worth this horrible price!  
  
Draco shook his head and returned to his cot. Bill's letter had been cautiously hopeful on the subject of the war. But then it had turned personal. Draco could see the words in front of him, despite the fact that the letter was now nothing more than ash at the bottom of his fire.  
  
'Well,' it read, 'I've had some interesting news. That git Timmons wrote me. Seems he's asked my sister to marry him. Seems she said a June wedding would be beautiful. I know her medical camp is somewhere near you, so maybe I'll go visit her.'  
  
That was it. In those few brief sentences, Draco died inside. He balanced the knife in his hand, blade first, and with a quick flick of his wrist he sent it flying toward the mantelpiece again, where it stuck, quivering from the impact.  
  
What the hell did he expect, he thought angrily. He hadn't asked her to wait for him, wouldn't have expected it. Hell, he hadn't even spoken to her since he'd left her bedside almost four years ago. Oh, he'd had news of her occasionally from Bill. She had gone to the healer's school. Had even become a medic in record time.  
  
But Draco had never contacted her or tried to see her. And he'd never been able to forget her, either. That was the hell of it. One kiss, a few brief caresses, and now there was no other woman in the world for him. He knew. He'd tried, in a fit of anger at hearing that she'd been seen with some man at dinner somewhere, to seduce and bed one of the young women who were always flirting with him. It had been a fiasco! The woman had been tall, lithe, and brunette. Nothing like Virginia. But at the crucial moment when he was ready to enter the woman's body, he breathed Virginia's name. Naturally, the woman had been livid! She'd stormed out, hugging her clothing to her body and berating him for the stupid bastard he was.  
  
He'd learned. A few more disastrous attempts had taught him that he would get more satisfaction with his own hand, than with a living, breathing female, unless she happened to be Virginia Weasley.  
  
But he still hadn't approached Virginia. Over time, he became more and more convinced that he'd done the right thing to leave, but would she ever forgive him for it? Did she even care? He didn't think of himself as a coward, but he couldn't go to her. He still had nothing to offer her, except himself. He'd had an offer from Bill to join him as a curse-breaker for Gringotts.  
  
"The pay isn't all that great, but the travel is free and you can take your family!" Bill had said. "Besides, you get a share of every treasure you recover, and that's not bad!"  
  
Draco had actually considered it. He wasn't trained to do anything at all, always expecting to inherit his family money and not have to work. He could try to play professional Quidditch, but he didn't love the game; never had. That was probably why Potter had always beaten him. He'd thought that if he took the job with Gringotts, he could save up a bit, then think about a wife and kids, even take care of his mother. But he hadn't heard from his mother for almost two years, and he didn't need to worry about a wife, anymore. Virginia was getting married to someone else.  
  
Draco rose and lifted his hand. The knife was wrenched from the wood and flew back to him. He closed it and put it in his trouser pocket. His hand automatically closed on the other items in the pocket. He withdrew them, feeling his heart clench again. A very battered, torn green ribbon was wrapped around a creased, cracked bit of parchment. Draco unwrapped the ribbon with trembling hands. Carefully unfolding the parchment, he read the words again. This time, though, no smile at her cunning or ingenuity crossed his mouth. Draco traced the faint writing with a slender finger, almost feeling her strong, smooth fingers again.  
  
Biting back an oath, he crumpled the parchment in his hand, determined to burn it, too. It was unimportant. It had no meaning any longer. He strode across to the fire, but couldn't seem to do it. He looked at the little ball of parchment, watching it uncurl in his hand now that he wasn't clenching it tightly. As suddenly as he'd crushed it, he laid it on the mantelpiece and carefully smoothed it again. Then he folded it into a small square and rewrapped the ribbon around it. Slipping it into his pocket, Draco angrily stomped to his bed. He couldn't sleep, so he might as well scout around before everyone else got up.  
  
Draco donned the long, oriental looking, dark green robe, then buckled on his slim sword. He looked at the hollowed out bicorn horn he sometimes used to signal other camps. It could be hung from his belt and didn't really weigh much, but did he really need it? He doubted he would have any trouble; there hadn't been any sign of enemy activity in this area in days. But three years of fighting had taught him to be ready. He picked up the horn and clipped it to his belt. Then, pulling on his fur-lined dragon hide gloves, he left the tent.  
  
The cold November air was crisp and clean, smelling of pine smoke and the sea away to the west. Draco walked about the clearing, looking at the signs of the revelry from last night. Thankfully there were few alcohol bottles. He'd been adamant about that. No drunkenness. If they were unexpectedly attacked while drunk, they'd be slaughtered. To die in battle was one thing, but to be murdered in your bed because you were filthy drunk was unforgivable.  
  
Draco left the clearing and unsheathed his sword. He gave it a few experimental swings, loosening his arm muscles. Might as well practice, he thought. Suddenly he felt a prickle of unease run up his spine. Still swinging the sword, Draco looked and listened carefully. He couldn't see anything to cause his uneasiness. As though it were part of his routine, he gave a few practice jabs with the weapon, then spun and moved the other way. There! In the trees to his left was a slight movement. And another. Draco continued practicing, counting at least seven beings watching him. Human, troll, or other, he didn't know. But there could always be more.  
  
Draco now practiced more enthusiastically, gradually backing toward the camp. He wasn't certain if the watchers were hostile or not, but while he could defend himself against two or three attackers at a time, seven would be too many, especially if there was a powerful magic user in the group. Draco was less than a hundred yards from the camp when the first watcher broke from cover. It was a man, probably in his thirties. The man's eyes were sunken and seemed to burn with a fanatical light. As Draco watched, the man reached in his sleeve and withdrew a wand.  
  
"FOR VOLDEMORT!" he cried, whipping the wand in Draco's direction.  
  
Several other men burst from the trees, also pointing their wands, but they stopped, amazed. Draco was no longer standing before them. The man who had attacked first suddenly slumped to the ground. The others turned around and saw Draco sheathing his sword and pulling out his own wand.  
  
"How did he-," one of them started to ask, but he flew back as Draco hit him with a blast of magic. Then Draco disapparated again, only to appear behind another. He stupefied this one and disapparated again. He'd been lucky so far, by surprising them. But they would soon recover and begin to attack in earnest. He disapparated back to camp, knowing they would head here. Pulling the horn from his belt, he let loose a loud blast. The sound rang in the cold air, and the camp immediately stirred to action.  
  
"We're under attack!" he shouted, placing himself at the head of the path and summoning his bow and arrows from his tent. He threw the quiver of arrows over his shoulder and strung an arrow. He calmly aimed, hearing his mates organizing behind him. Then his focus tightened and he saw and heard nothing but the enemy now rounding the path and running, weapons raised, toward him.  
  
With a zing! the arrow flew straight through the throat of the first attacker. He fell back and tripped the woman directly behind him. Draco drew another arrow from the quiver and strung it, and another man fell. There were many more than he'd thought. At least a dozen men and women were swarming toward him. A spell shot past Draco and hit another of the attackers, freezing the woman on the spot. As she fell, her companions trod on her body, causing more damage than the spell had done. Now the enemy was at the verge of the clearing and Draco threw his bow aside. Drawing his sword, he ran into the fray, heedless of his own safety.  
  
The band of renegades was poorly trained, relying on surprise to defeat their enemy. But, though, they fought with grim determination, causing as much damage as possible, Draco thought the battle might be over quickly. Then he heard a sound that made him shiver. Over the sound of clashing weapons and shouts, Draco heard a slow, rhythmic stomping of heavy feet. Mountain trolls! Draco quickly dispatched the renegade in front of him and looked around. Few of the attackers remained standing, and some of the defenders were also looking around. Mountain trolls were tough, ruthless, and too stupid to quit when they were beaten. They were immune to most magic and didn't have many weak spots. Even as he watched, four huge mountain trolls moved into view. Draco's stomach lurched. This was going to get very ugly, very fast.  
  
Ginny Weasley turned off the hot water and groped for her towel. She wrapped the towel around her head and shrugged into her bathrobe. Ginny had been up all night, having the on-call duty, but she was restless now. Her medical unit had gotten the word that the war was officially over yesterday, and most of the staff had stayed up late celebrating, but, being on duty, she had remained sober. Actually, though there was an allotment of alcohol available for special occasions, few of the medics and healers had indulged. In their line of work, healing someone while drunk could have disastrous results. She sat on the overlarge, padded bench that some enterprising medic had brought back from a scavenging trip to London. The bench was very comfortable and large enough for two adults to share it, as long as the adults were agile and very friendly. Ginny chuckled lightly at the thought, but froze when her mind conjured an image of a long, lean blond twined with her smaller redheaded self.  
  
Damn! Four long years and she still couldn't stop thinking about the son of a bitch! Oh, yes, she'd heard from Professor Dumbledore, from Bill, even from her Mum, that he'd had to go, to become his own person. Bill had told her that Draco had been miserable for months after leaving her. But it had been four years and she hadn't heard a thing from him.  
  
Ginny angrily dragged the towel from her head and began to vigorously dry the short locks. If she had her way, she'd rip his memory out of her mind and the longing for him from her heart. She wasn't a stupid, romantic sixteen-year-old anymore. She was a healer, and a damned good one, too! She was reasonably attractive and could probably easily find a man to care for and to care for her. Hell, that wasn't the problem. In fact, there was one man, older, mature, very handsome, who was asking her to marry him! She liked him and had a great deal of respect for him, but she didn't love him. In fact, while it might have been pleasant to kiss the man, she never had shared more than a friendly peck on the cheek with him. She just couldn't seem to imagine herself becoming physically intimate with him, so she certainly couldn't marry him.  
  
She thought of Eric Timmons, her former teacher, now one of the staff of the small medical unit with her. He'd been supportive in those last miserable days before she left Hogwarts. He'd even written a glowing recommendation and given her his own personal copy of "Treatment of Dark Magical Wounds". And after her schooling, which had been much better than she'd hoped, he had joined her in the small field hospital and was a valued member of the staff.  
  
But one thing had been consistent. His hatred of Draco Malfoy. She had tried to tell him, several times, that Draco had SAVED her, and that she had been partially to blame for what had happened. He wouldn't hear it. In fact the only time she ever argued with Eric was when Draco's name came up.  
  
Ginny finished toweling her hair and sat back on the wide bench. Eric had asked her again, a few days ago. Ginny was becoming very good at avoiding conversations that might lead to his proposing, but he'd snuck it in on her. He'd asked about her brother Percy and his engagement. She'd told him that Percy's fiancé, Pen, wanted a June wedding. Then, she'd stupidly sighed that a June wedding would be beautiful. And he'd asked again. She'd said no; she always said no, but it didn't seem to stop him. She told him she would always love and respect him as a friend, but nothing more. Ginny had never led him on. And this most recent time she had been brutally honest, saying that she couldn't foresee ever consenting. That had stopped him for a short time, but he'd finally smiled and said that she would grow to love him if she'd just give it a chance.  
  
Heaving a great sigh, Ginny thought about the letter she'd received from Bill yesterday. It had confirmed that the war was officially over. He told her that there might still be some renegade bands out to do whatever harm they could, so the medical units weren't being disbanded, yet. And he told her that there were some groups of freedom fighters in her area. In fact, Draco Malfoy's band was only about ten or so miles from her location, and wasn't that interesting? He ended with a warning to keep alert, as the renegades would probably just as happily attack a medical unit as a combat unit.  
  
Ginny had felt a thrill of excitement when she'd read about Draco's unit, but the thrill had faded quickly. He probably knew she was here, but apparently had no desire to see her. She'd heard a lot about him in the last three years. He was tough, exacting, and driven. But he looked out for the people under his command and took care of them. Even though he was one of the youngest wizards or witches to command a unit, his people were fiercely loyal to him. He was growing to be almost as big a hero in his own way as Harry Potter. The sneaking, bullying, spoiled boy she'd known seemed to have really grown up. She shook her head at how strange the world was. She was hopelessly in love with a man she'd hated for years. And the same man, who had seemed to be destined to be one of Voldemort's servants, was one of the enemy's most ferocious foes.  
  
Ginny finally stood and firmly belted the robe around her waist. She couldn't just sit here brooding. They didn't have any patients right now, but that didn't mean there weren't things to do around the camp. She gathered her things and exited the shower room. As she was crossing the clearing from the showers back to the women's sleeping quarters, Ginny felt an uncomfortable prickling feeling down her neck. She looked quickly around, but most of the camp was still asleep. No one was around.  
  
The feeling faded, but Ginny still felt uneasy. In her small cubicle she pulled clean clothing from her trunk and tossed the dirty medical scrubs she'd been wearing into the laundry basket. She pulled on a pair of slim trousers and a knit turtleneck. Then she pulled on a heavy set of robes. She ran a comb through her hair and sat down to pull on her socks and boots. Finished, she decided to see if there was any breakfast ready in the mess tent yet.  
  
The uneasy feeling had faded, but it was still present, in the back of her thoughts. By now a few healers and medics were up and about and she waved to a few people as she passed. Suddenly she froze. She didn't feel uneasy any more, she felt terrified. Something very bad was about to happen! She didn't know what, or where, but it was happening NOW! Her ears filled with the rhythmic stomp of heavy feet and her nose filled with the stench of some horrible creature. The camp disappeared and she saw the vague outline of four huge creatures in her mind's eye. She saw a small group of witches and wizards shooting arrows and spells at them, but they kept coming. The leading creature had five arrows through the neck and finally fell. The next had been hit by what looked like several incendiary spells and ran away in flames, only to collapse in a burst of fire. But that still left two.  
  
They were mountain trolls, Ginny realized, and they were attacking Draco's camp. She didn't know how she knew, but the knowledge was there. The final two trolls were almost on the small human band, but the constant rain of arrows was slowing them slightly. One looked almost on its last legs. Then her perception changed. She was facing one troll, the strongest, all alone! Gods, Draco was taking the beast on himself, drawing it away from the others! Ginny clenched her hands, now totally immersed in the battle. She could hear the cries of the other fighters, but mostly, she heard the heavy breathing of the beast in front of her. It lumbered toward her, it's heavy spear, more a sharpened sapling than a spear, raised. It lunged, thrusting the spear forward, and Ginny gasped as she could almost feel Draco jumping away. Then she saw a sword fly through the air, sticking deep into the beast's neck. Ginny felt a thrill go through her. He defeated the troll!  
  
But the troll wasn't done yet. With its last strength, it hefted the spear and launched it. Ginny shrieked as though she felt the impact. Then she doubled over and fainted.  
  
A small group of people had gathered around Ginny when she finally came to. She couldn't have been out for very long, as no one had thought to summon a litter yet. Ginny sat, wondering what had happened. Then she remembered. Ginny scrambled to her feet, ignoring the hands that reached down to help her.  
  
She looked at the medic directly in front of her.  
  
"Get team one ready, we're going to be busy soon!" she snapped. The young man jumped back, startled, but ran off to rouse all the healers and medics who comprised their emergency response team one.  
  
Then Ginny waited.  
  
Draco had never felt anything like this before. The trolls had taken their toll. All of his team were injured or dead, he wasn't sure which. He'd taken the last troll himself, hoping he might be able to use a combination of his weapons and magic, and draw it away from his own people. They were having enough trouble with the last of the renegades and the wounded troll. He'd been lucky not to be wounded, yet. Drawing the troll away from the camp, Draco made his stand with his back to a large pine. The troll followed him, thrusting at him with the lethal spear. Draco threw weakening spells at him, dodging and blocking. Finally, the giant beast lifted its bony head in frustration and bellowed. Draco said a quick prayer and sent his sword flying at one of the few weak spots on the creature. The sword flew true, but trolls were slow to die. The creature knew it was done for, but used its last strength to thrust the spear at the puny creature who had killed it. The spear caught Draco low in the stomach. The force of the blow drove him back into the pine tree behind him, impaling him and pinning him to the trunk.  
  
Now Draco stood, legs trembling, trying to hold himself up, off of the spear pinning him. It helped to relieve the pain. There was a sudden flutter of wings and Archimedes landed gently on Draco's shoulder. She seemed to feel his pain, for she hooted softly and rubbed his face with her elegant head. He couldn't help giving her a small smile, remembering how she would not leave him when he'd tried to set her free four years ago. A small sound, a groan, let Draco know that some of his people might still be alive.  
  
Looking into the intelligent eyes, Draco gasped, "Get Virginia. Remember Virginia, love? Go get her!"  
  
Archimedes hooted loudly and flapped her wings, then she was off. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that some of his folks might survive. His last thought before he passed out was of brown eyes and red hair. Now he'd never get to tell her how he felt.  
  
Ginny was growing more and more agitated. It had only been about twenty minutes, and the healers and medics were standing by with their supply pouches and brooms ready. But they were eying Ginny questioningly. She bit her lip. She couldn't explain how she knew they'd be needed, but luckily no one questioned her. Then, suddenly, a beautiful owl appeared in the sky. It circled once then zipped down, landing on her shoulder.  
  
"Archimedes!" Ginny cried. "What is it?"  
  
She looked for a message on the owl's leg, but there was nothing. The owl flapped her wings in agitation.  
  
"What? Is it Draco?"  
  
Archimedes settled down and blinked once.  
  
"Is he alone?" Ginny had seen several other people in her vision or whatever it was.  
  
More agitated wing flapping followed.  
  
Ginny was sick with anxiety, but said calmly, "Five?" Flapping. "Ten?" More flapping. "Twenty?" This time the flapping was less vigorous. "Twenty-five?" Archimedes settled down and hooted. "Is everyone injured?"  
  
The owl blinked again. Ginny nodded. "Can we follow you, love, or are you tired?"  
  
The owl seemed t take offense at this. She gave Ginny a small shriek and flapped her wings again.  
  
"Sorry, love. Of course you're not too tired. Right then," she said to her astounded audience. "Mount up and we'll follow Archimedes."  
  
The medical unit followed the owl to a small clearing not too far from their own camp. They were horrified by what they saw, but they went to work immediately. The only way to tell the difference between friend and foe was to check the left forearms. But at the moment, the healers and medics didn't care about that. They triaged the wounded, and got to work. The few who were dead were covered quickly, and the healers moved on to those they could help.  
  
Ginny moved from person to person, healing what she could, dressing wounds, setting fractures, stopping bleeding. But the one she was looking for was nowhere to be seen. She finished tying off the emergency bandage she was working on and looked around. Archimedes was perched on a tree branch nearby.  
  
"Where is Draco," she cried.  
  
The owl launched herself toward one of the paths leading out of the clearing. Ginny grabbed her bag and wand and ran after her. She hadn't gone very far when she felt herself grow pale. Her legs wanted to buckle under her, but she fought off the urge. Draco seemed to be leaning casually against a large pine tree. It was only when you noticed the large spear impaled through his stomach and stuck into the tree that you knew something was wrong. Ginny ran up to him, tears already streaming down her face.  
  
"Oh, lord, Draco, what have you done to yourself now!" she whispered helplessly.  
  
She was shocked when his eyelids fluttered. "V-virginia?" he asked, then coughed, blood dribbling down his lips.  
  
Ginny shoved her fear and concern aside. She was a professional, and her tears wouldn't help him right now.  
  
"Just shut up. I'm going to get you off of there and back to the hospital. This will hurt so I'm going to knock you out."  
  
Draco watched her through slitted eyes. She'd been crying, but she sounded more angry than upset now. He wanted to tell her not to bother, he probably wouldn't last much longer. He thought he was telling her, but she didn't seem to be listening. Finally he lifted a hand to her cheek, ignoring the searing pain in his abdomen. She lifted her face to him again, and Draco saw she was still crying. Crying for him. Then she lifted her wand and he saw no more.  
  
Minutes or hours later, Draco heard a voice. It cut through the darkness around him like a knife. He didn't know the voice, but he did know the place. He'd been here before. This time, however, there was no sense of something left undone. He was ready to sink into the dark and the cold because there was nothing left for him. But the voice bothered him. If it would just go away, he would get about the business of dying, but the voice kept hammering at him. It was a hard, male voice, and it didn't like him at all. The voice was encouraging him to die, and he would love to oblige, but it wouldn't shut up! In fact, if he could get his hands on the voice, he'd throttle it. Then, praise be and hallelujah, the voice stopped!  
  
Draco settled back, more exhausted than he could say. Then the other voice began. He knew this voice, but couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
Ginny had spent hours on Draco, stopping internal bleeding, repairing the organs in the stomach. After she was done, she watched the medics settle him into a bed, then left to wash up and change. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She wanted a little while to relax, get clean and bring the day's events into perspective. It was still early, barely evening, but she felt she could sleep for hours. But Ginny didn't want to sleep. She just wanted to think for a little while.  
  
Draco's camp had looked like a massacre had taken place, but actually only one of his people had been killed. And only he had been seriously injured. After treating and talking to everyone, they'd discovered that one of the trolls, the one the group had taken on, had used a sleeping powder on them before it finally succumbed to its wounds. But all agreed that if Draco hadn't taken on the last troll himself, or more important, if he hadn't wakened them when the attack began, they'd have been much worse off.  
  
It hadn't taken much to figure that her first sense of unease had been when the attack had begun. And then she'd been able to see part of the attack from his point of view. Why? What did it mean?  
  
Ginny stripped off the soiled robe and sweater. She rummaged around her trunk and came up with an oversized tee shirt, but paused. Don't be stupid, she told herself. He probably wouldn't waken tonight. But she pulled out an emerald green turtleneck sweater. She wrapped her bathrobe around her and headed to the shower room.  
  
After she showered up, Ginny stopped by the mess tent and grabbed a quick sandwich. She hadn't been able to eat while waiting for word of  
  
Draco's camp, then had been busy after. Many of the medics and healers were giving her odd looks, as though wondering how she'd known about the attack. She still didn't know herself. She felt uncomfortable with their stares and ate quickly. She hurried back to the hospital tent. The patients all had beds with curtains, but most curtains were open. She was surprised to see Draco's were closed. As she approached, she heard a voice. It was low and harsh, but she recognized it immediately.  
  
"You know you should just die!" Eric Timmons' voice was saying. "She doesn't want you, you know. She's going to marry me!"  
  
What the bloody hell? Ginny thought, hurrying toward the curtained bed.  
  
"You think she's been waiting for you? Stupid bastard, it's been four bloody years, and you're too late!"  
  
Ginny yanked the curtains back and saw Eric leaning over Draco's unconscious form, a look of intense hatred on his face. The look changed to one of shame and surprise when he saw her standing there.  
  
"Ginny!" he said. "I thought you were going to take a nap."  
  
"Obviously," Ginny said heatedly, moving toward the bed. "Get away from my patient."  
  
Eric stepped back a bit, but seemed to be trying to block her from him.  
  
"Look, Ginny, I was just-I wanted to-," he paused, then his face grew hard again.  
  
"He deserted you!" he hissed. "He walked away and hasn't once, in four years, taken the trouble to even send you a note! And when he comes in, after nearly getting his whole crew killed, you can't even see anyone else. It makes me sick! Don't you see how sick that is?"  
  
Ginny stiffened. Maybe it was sick, maybe it was just pathetic. But it was her life and he had no right to try to interfere!  
  
When she finally spoke, her voice was tightly controlled. "Medic Timmons, you will leave right now. You're relieved of your duties for now. You will not come near this patient again."  
  
She stood rigid, staring straight ahead. He looked at her, his face anguished.  
  
"Ginny, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said-."  
  
"You will address me by my title from now on. And don't ever, ever come near my patients again."  
  
He towered above her, but right now he looked small and insignificant. He lowered his head and nodded. Then he turned and left.  
  
As soon as he left, Ginny hurried to Draco's side. She took his hand and smoothed the hair from his forehead. He no longer looked angelic in sleep. His young face was creased with lines at the forehead and around the eyes. Whatever he'd been doing these last four years, it had taken its toll. He didn't stir and Ginny was dismayed to note that his life force was weaker than it had been when she'd been treating him. She sat on the chair beside the bed and held his hand between both of hers.  
  
"Come on, Draco, you can't give up now! You held on this long. Just hang in there! Archimedes is hovering about the camp and she won't come and eat because she's worried about you. Your crew is worried, too. They're all waiting for you to get up and tell them what to do."  
  
She didn't feel any improvement in his life force. She squeezed his hand and leaned closer. "I'm still mad at you, you stupid git. You left without saying goodbye! If you die on me, I'm never going to forgive you!"  
  
It was a stupid thing to say, but she thought she felt a definite surge in his energy. A tear spilled down her cheek and she closed her eyes. Leaning her head against his pillow, she whispered, "Please, Draco, don't give up. I need you."  
  
Ginny didn't know how long she sat like that, but she must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her awake. Ginny sat up, groaning at the stiffness in her neck. She looked up and saw the kindly face of Maggie, one of the older healers. Her seamed, wrinkled face smiled down at Ginny.  
  
"Go on, luv, get some rest and I'll watch out for 'im," she told Ginny, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll call you if 'ee needs anything."  
  
Ginny was about to protest, but she WAS exhausted. She finally rose and stretched. The older woman put an arm around her shoulders and led Ginny out of the cubicle. Ginny paused, looking over her shoulder toward the sleeping form on the bed. Maggie straightened, towering over Ginny.  
  
"And WHAT does the Master 'Ealer say about rest?"  
  
Ginny gave the imposing woman a wan grin.  
  
"Rest is as important as magic in healing," she said guiltily.  
  
Maggie gave her a small hug.  
  
"Off with you, lass. I'll keep an eye on your young man. Besides," she added with a wicked smile, "you'd scare the man to death if 'ee got a glimpse of you right now."  
  
Ginny nodded and stumbled toward the women's sleeping tent, but she veered toward the makeshift owlery. She had one message to send before she could go to sleep. Taking a small envelope and sheet of notepaper from the box tacked up to the wall, Ginny scratched out a quick message. She found Archimedes and showed her the note.  
  
"Did someone take care of you love? Did you get some rest?" she asked the bird.  
  
Archimedes hooted softly and leaned into Ginny's stroking fingers.  
  
"Do you think you can deliver one more message today, love?"  
  
Archimedes rustled her feathers and stuck a claw out, indicating her readiness to take the note. Ginny gave her the note and the directions, then made her way to her bed, nearly asleep on her feet. She was still confused and upset about Eric and what he'd done. And what DID she say to Draco after four years. She knew how she felt, but he probably had forgotten all about her. Whatever, though, she'd get some sleep and think about it tomorrow.  
  
Draco came awake slowly, feeling as though he'd been hit by a ton of bricks. He opened his eyes and saw that it was dark. He felt like he'd been asleep for hours. He tried to sit, but groaned and lay back as the pain hit him. A soft, dry hand brushed his forehead. He looked up, but instead of seeing Virginia's beautiful, concerned face, he saw the wrinkled face of a woman of about sixty. When he tried to look around her, she smiled at him in a kindly manner.  
  
"Don't worry, love, she just needed to get some rest. Been up these last two days, she 'as. Been 'overing over you for hours. Now you just go back to sleep and you can see 'er in the morning."  
  
Draco was tired, it was true. But the idea of just going to sleep like a good boy was repugnant to him. He opened his mouth to argue when the woman rose to her full height and put her hands on her hips. She looked at him as though he were an errant schoolboy.  
  
"The Master 'Ealer says to rest! Got it!?"  
  
Draco couldn't help but smile at her. So this was the Master Healer? What was she doing standing a bedside watch in the middle of the night? Before he could argue, she lifted her wand and sent him back to sleep.  
  
When he woke again, Draco could hear the soft bustle of activity outside his curtained cubicle. He tried to sit again, and found that he was much improved from the night before. He looked around for the Master Healer, but found he was alone. He tried to remember what had happened the previous day, but everything was jumbled in his mind. But he definitely remembered Virginia finding him and crying over him. He wanted to see her and the Master Healer had told him she'd stayed by his side for hours. Did that mean she still cared? Was it possible? He had to see her. The curtain rustled and he looked up eagerly. The young woman who entered wasn't Virginia, though.  
  
"Oh, yer up!" she said in an irritatingly bright voice. "I came to give yer a wash 'fore the Master 'Ealer comes ta see yer!"  
  
As if to prove her point, she held up a basin with a washcloth. She set the items on his bedside table.  
  
"Just gotta get the water," she chirped, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.  
  
Draco hadn't even had a chance to ask her where Virginia was. And she was mad if she thought she was going to give him a bed bath!  
  
Ginny woke later than usual. She stretched lazily, wondering why she'd been so exhausted. DRACO! He was here! She had to go see him! She'd showered last night, so she just brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Then she carefully selected her clothing.  
  
The young female medic zipped back into the cubicle with a large pitcher of water. She poured some into the basin and touched it with her wand to heat it.  
  
"Right, then, where should we start?"  
  
She grinned brightly, her blue eyes gleaming appreciatively as she looked at him. She was going to enjoy this!  
  
Draco crossed his arms. "We can start with Virginia Weasley. I want to see her."  
  
The young woman stopped, looking confused. "But, sir," she began.  
  
"Virginia Weasley," Draco said slowly, his voice menacing.  
  
Now she nodded, but tried again. "Yes, sir, but you're a mess. The Master Healer-," she said, but he cut her off again.  
  
"Has already seen me a mess." Now his voice grew louder. "I don't give a damn about your Master Healer. She can go to hell on a slow broom for all I care. I want--,"  
  
The curtains were thrown back and Ginny's voice sliced through the space.  
  
"I'm sure Amy knows precisely what you want, Mr. Malfoy," she said, her voice tightly controlled and icy. "In fact the entire ward knows how unhappy you are, I dare say."  
  
She looked at the young medic and nodded. "You can go, Amy."  
  
The young woman slipped past Ginny and pulled the curtains closed behind her. Draco could only stare at her, standing there stiff and proud in her long, crimson robes with her Master Healer's collar tab sparkling at her throat. Dear lord, he thought. She was the Master Healer! 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

A/N: Here it is, for better or worse. Almost NC17 at the end but not quite. The rest of the A/N is at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter Sixteen  
  
Ginny moved stiffly to the table and eyed the basin of water. Her fingers itched to snatch it up and dash the contents at this rude, arrogant, selfish son of a bitch! But she wasn't sixteen any more. She wouldn't let her temper get the best of her. Instead, she turned to him, focusing at a point just above his head.  
  
"You're doing much better, Malfoy, if your volume is any indication," she gritted at him. "Much as I'd like to comply and, how did you put it? 'Ride a slow broom to hell,' I have things to finish."  
  
She rolled up her sleeves and approached him, still refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
"Virginia, let me—," he started, but she cut him off with a gesture of her hand.  
  
"I'm going to examine you, Malfoy, then I'll assign another healer to finish your treatment. You should be ready to travel in a day or two. I understand you're a fast healer."  
  
Draco reached out to take the hand she'd gestured with, but she pulled away, out of his reach.  
  
"I'll stupefy you if I must," she said in a hard voice, then added more quietly, "I've done it before, you know."  
  
"Gods, Virginia, just listen!" he said desperately. This was not going as he'd hoped.  
  
"I heard plenty, Malfoy," she said stiffly, pulling her wand from her pocket. She aimed it ominously at him. "You had four years to get in touch with me, Malfoy. And practically the first words out of your mouth were to go to hell. I would say we have nothing to discuss!"  
  
Draco looked from the wand to the hard glare she was giving him. She was dead serious! With a sigh he lay back and stared at the ceiling. She was right, of course. He could have sent her a note, a card, anything in the last four years, but he hadn't.  
  
Ginny blinked hard, not wanting him to see how deeply his words had hurt. Then she got down to business. Putting the wand aside, she said, "If you'd pull up the shirt, I can look at your injury."  
  
Draco listlessly lifted the hem up to his chest. Ginny had to fight not to gasp and cry at the bruising and redness she saw. She'd seen worse, hundreds of times, but no on anyone she cared for. After a moment, she reached out to touch the newly healed skin over the site of the injury. It looked taut, but not tight. And although it was warm to the touch, the area wasn't hot. She brushed away from the wound, feeling the redness, checking for warmth and tenderness. His face was tight, but he didn't seem to be in an inordinate amount of pain. The redness seemed to be mostly from bruising, not infection. Then, without warning, she stiffened her fingers and dug them into his abdomen, wanting to check the organs to make sure she'd repaired all the damage. A very small, mean part of her laughed when he sucked in his breath.  
  
"Shit! That hurts!" he hissed, glaring at her.  
  
"Good! If I was scraping you off the ceiling now, I'd have to go back in and do more repair work. You'll be sore for some time, and I want you to let your next healer know if you have any problems using the bathroom. I'd say that you'll be fine, otherwise."  
  
She stepped back and rolled her sleeves down, watching him yank the shirt down.  
  
"You're still covered with blood, and as soon as I leave, Amy or one of the other medics will help you get cleaned up."  
  
"Like hell," he muttered.  
  
Ginny didn't like the idea of lovely, bright, blue-eyed Amy with her hands all over him, either. But she shrugged.  
  
"Fine, Malfoy. When you're feeling up to it, I'll have one of the male medics help you to the showers, and you can do it yourself."  
  
Draco frowned at her, wishing she'd stop calling him 'Malfoy'. He felt like he was back in Hogwarts again. He considered trying to talk to her again, but the curtains rattled and the young medic stuck her head in.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Healer, but there's a visitor for Mr. Malfoy. Says she's Mrs. Malfoy?"  
  
Ginny nodded; she'd been expecting the woman. Draco widened his eyes and stared at the curtains. It couldn't be, could it? He looked at Ginny and saw that she didn't seem at all surprised.  
  
At that moment the curtain opened and Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the cubicle. As Draco had said years ago, the woman was beautiful. But she no longer had that vacant, perfect beauty he was so used to. Instead, her hair was mussed, but cut flatteringly. Her clothes weren't new, and looked a bit out of date, but she wore them well and carried herself straight and tall. And instead of the dramatic, just got out of the salon make up, she had a bit of lipstick and a light touch of eye makeup. In fact, she almost looked like a young girl, except when you noticed the worry lines about the eyes and mouth. But she was still exceptionally pretty. Draco just stared, apparently unable to even greet his mother, so Ginny walked up to her and put her hand out.  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm, er, I was your son's healer and I sent you the owl last night. Believe it or not, your son's silence is of a very sudden nature. There's really nothing wrong with his voice."  
  
Narcissa brushed away Ginny's hand and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. She gave Ginny a firm hug, then stood back, tears in the bright eyes.  
  
"So you're the one who saved my boy! Bless you, dear, bless you! And how is he?"  
  
Narcissa looked toward Draco, but his expression was still one of surprise and disbelief. Shaking her head, Ginny took one of the woman's hands and led her to the bed. She might be angry and heartbroken, but her heart went out to this woman who had been through so much, if the stories her mum and the twins had told her were true.  
  
"Why don't you ask him yourself, Mrs. Malfoy?" she said, giving Draco a look that should have incinerated him on the spot. "He really does have a voice, as we all have reason to know."  
  
Why wasn't he talking? Couldn't he see his mum was worried?  
  
Finally, Draco cleared his throat.  
  
"Mother," he said in a soft voice. "I thought—I didn't think you wanted to see me—." He stopped and swallowed, glancing at Ginny.  
  
"Er, I'll leave you two to talk. Mrs. Malfoy, just call if you need anything!"  
  
Ginny hurried out of the cubicle, then headed down the aisle between beds, staring straight ahead and walking quickly. She didn't want to see the expressions on the faces of Dra—Malfoy's crew. As she left the hospital tent a young man hurried over to her with a pouch slung over his shoulder.  
  
"Mail's in," he called, digging into the pouch and pulling out a large bundle tied in string. "There's some stuff from the War Department, too," he said helpfully, not at all bothered that he'd been nosing around the camp's mail.  
  
Ginny took the bundle silently, wanting only to get away and hide in her small cubicle for a while.  
  
"Guess everyone's excited about the news, huh? Ready to ship back home? If your owls have too much to carry, just leave me the bundle and I'll take it back with me tomorrow, right?"  
  
Ginny gave him a small nod and watched him head off to where he'd left his broom. She sighed and looked at the top letter. It looked very official and was from the War Department's Personnel Office. The rest of the mail looked like reports, forms and other bureaucratic nonsense. Most personal mail came by owl, but official stuff, when there was lots of it, came by courier. Ginny wandered back to her cubicle and sat at the desk. She wanted more than anything to just lie down and think, or cry, or yell. But she had a lot of backed up paperwork, reports to file on yesterday's emergencies, and, now, mail to answer.  
  
Opening the letter from the Personnel Office, she scanned it quickly, then read more slowly. They somehow already knew about the attack on Dra—MALFOY'S camp, and had sent a team to investigate. The threat of more attacks in this area was felt to be minimal, now, and his personnel were to return to London for release or reassignment as soon as they were well enough to travel. There was a letter for Malfoy, giving him, Ginny supposed, his instructions. Also, her own medical unit was to be cut in half, with Ginny deciding who would go and who would stay. Those remaining would be responsible for closing down the facility and having everything ready to be returned to storage within a fortnight. Then they would also return to London for reassignment. At the end of the letter, there was a last paragraph stating that a small, crack team of medics and healers was being formed as a mobile unit to accompany the few scouting units left in the field. All senior healers were asked to recommend at least one or two members among their personnel for this duty.  
  
Ginny figured the War Department must be very confident that they had weeded out the resistance, if they were recalling so many personnel. Now she had to decide who to keep and who to let go. That was pretty simple. For the most part, those with families, husbands, wives, and children, would be returned first. She would keep the single people with her to help break down the camp.  
  
She considered the last paragraph again, wondering which of her medics and healers might be interested. As far as she was concerned, they were all qualified; it was just a matter of volunteering. As she was considering, a voice called out to her from outside the cubicle.  
  
"Gin—er, Master Healer, can I have a word?"  
  
Ginny gave a silent sigh. She did not need Eric Timmons to make her day even worse. But she supposed they needed to talk. Straightening and smoothing her robes, she called, "Yes, come in."  
  
Timmons entered, looking haggard and disheveled. His face was unshaven and he looked as though he'd slept in his robes. Ginny stood straight and firmly met his eyes.  
  
"I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," he said, looking down at her. "I know I was out of line—."  
  
Ginny didn't let him finish. "Out of line?! You went way past out of line and bordering on criminal! Damn, Eric, what were you thinking? Do you know that he was this close," she held up a hand with her thumb and forefinger a bare half-inch apart, "to just slipping away? Was that what you wanted? For him to die?"  
  
Timmons' eyes grew wide. "No way! I didn't do anything but talk to him! It's impossible!"  
  
Ginny shook her head in frustration. "Gods, Eric, didn't you listen in school? Didn't you believe what you taught us at Hogwarts? 'We can be the best healers in the world, but if the patient wants to die, he will.' I don't know all you said, but when you left, he wanted to die!"  
  
Instead of looking horrified, Timmons looked enraged. Enraged and jealous. He took a step toward Ginny and now towered over her.  
  
"And what sweet promises did you make to bring him back? Huh? Four long years I waited for you to forget him. But all it took was a word from that spoiled, selfish bastard and you're ready to just drop everything for him, right? Even your pants, I suppose. I didn't even rate a kiss, but what did you offer him?" He sneered as he continued. "I guess I just wasn't rich enough for you, was that it? Couldn't see yourself settling for a medic's salary when you could have a mansion and all the trappings."  
  
Even though he hadn't touched her, Ginny reeled back as if he'd struck her. She felt her chest tightening and knew she'd be in tears soon if she didn't get him out of here. She looked up and saw that he was finally looking horrified, as though he realized he'd just gone too far. She reached out to steady herself and her hand touched the letter she'd just received. Snatching it up, she finally got a hold of herself.  
  
Timmons reached out for her, but Ginny put the desk's chair between them. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.  
  
"Don't even think it, Medic Timmons. I don't have anything personal to say to you. Obviously, you can't continue here, so I'll give you a choice."  
  
She briefly told him he could either be released to London, or could be sent to the mobile unit that was being formed. Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, and it held no room for argument. "Of course," she added in a hard voice, "whichever you choose, no mention of our previous conversation will be made, as long as you leave immediately."  
  
She watched the different emotions play across his face, but he really didn't have any choice. His shoulders slumped.  
  
"Fine, send me to the field unit. Maybe I'll be lucky and get killed."  
  
He turned abruptly on his heel and was gone.  
  
Ginny sat on her bed, revulsion causing her to shake. Gods, the things he'd said had been so disgusting, so hurtful! How could he say he cared, then say things like that? He couldn't have cared that much, could he? Could this day get any worse, she wondered? Feeling unbelievably weary, Ginny laid back and closed her eyes.  
  
  
  
"Mother, what are you doing here? Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my letters?"  
  
Draco still felt overwhelmed by the shock of seeing his mother. She looked older than he remembered, but she looked more alive than he'd ever seen her. Alive and, well, THERE! She looked like she was all there, not just some vacant eyed zombie on his fath—Lucius Malfoy's arm.  
  
She laughed, a childlike, tinkling sound that lifted his spirits. He'd never heard her laugh like that before, either!  
  
"Which should I answer first?" she asked. "Where should I start?"  
  
Draco took on of her hands and pulled her onto his mattress. "Start from when you stopped answering my letters!" he ordered.  
  
"All right, let me think." Narcissa put a slender finger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling, as though the answer was printed there. "Ah, yes, about two years ago."  
  
She had drifted from one menial job to the next, determined not to rely on the kindness of the Weasleys and their friends, or the small amounts of money Draco could send her from time to time for her living. One day she'd run into Cornelius Fudge in Diagon Alley. He'd been late for an appointment and was in a lather because all of his meetings seemed to be conflicting. They'd spoken briefly and Narcissa had found that his social secretary had quit to join her husband overseas, leaving Fudge to try to manage his own appointments. He was up to his neck in missed, rescheduled and double engagements. He said vaguely that he didn't know how he was going to manage. Then he was off. But he'd given Narcissa an idea.  
  
She had dredged up the last remaining nice set of robes she had, splurged on a haircut and manicure, and had shown up, unannounced at Fudge's office a few days later. He'd looked bewildered at her presence and she'd just smiled sweetly, saying, "Why, Cornelius, don't you remember you asked me to pop over and interview for the social secretary position?"  
  
He'd accepted her explanation and had given her what seemed like hundreds of scraps of notes with appointments and meetings scribbled on them. "See what you can make of that, and let me know after lunch."  
  
He'd grabbed his cloak and been off. Narcissa had sat down with a large desk blotter-styled calendar and had painstakingly lined up all the appointments. Then she studied what she had. Several times there were relatively unimportant meetings conflicting with more important appointments. She took another page of the blotter, and with the help of the hearth and Fudge's personal owl, began rearranging appointments. Some of the people she contacted were surprised at seeing her in their fireplace, or answering an owl with her name, but most of them seemed to accept it without question.  
  
Fudge finally returned several hours later. He looked a bit surprised that she was still there, but after she showed him what she'd done, how she'd prioritized his meetings and his new schedule, he beamed at her and offered her the job. She asked for a higher salary than his previous secretary, citing her previous social connections as making her more qualified than the other woman. Surprisingly, he'd agreed.  
  
Once her position was secure financially, Narcissa decided it was time to let Draco get on with his own life and not worry about taking care of her. She'd sent him a letter (which obviously Fudge's owl was too lazy to carry all the way, since he'd never received it) telling him what was happening. She got two more letters from Draco, but at that time the fighting had been worsening and she didn't want to distract him from what he was doing. She decided to wait until he was home safely before writing again.  
  
"I guess it sounds silly to you, but it made perfect sense to me at the time," she said, a bit petulantly.  
  
It would, Draco thought, just a little annoyed. He'd been worried sick, but she hadn't written so he wouldn't worry. He shook his head slightly.  
  
"I still don't understand how you got the job with Fudge in the first place. I mean, no offense, but I just didn't think—," he trailed off.  
  
"That I was smart enough?" she smiled to take the sting from the words. "Don't worry, I didn't think I was smart enough, either. But I'm just not as stupid as your father, I mean, my husband made me, and you, think I was. After almost twenty years of having to juggle the dinner invitations and seating arrangements of the magical world's most evil, notorious and disgustingly rich, nobody knows precedence and protocol like I do!"  
  
Draco had to laugh at the determined sound of her voice. This really was a new Narcissa Malfoy. He found he didn't miss the old one a bit!  
  
"And I'm not helpless, son. Molly Weasley taught me that. She showed me that I could take care of myself so you wouldn 't have to worry about me. She is a strong woman, and taught me to be as strong as I could. I wouldn't be surprised if her daughter was the same."  
  
Narcissa gave Draco a speculative look. He looked away uncomfortably. He'd given her a brief explanation of why he was leaving Hogwarts, but had never gone into great detail. But rumour being what it was, it was fairly certain his mother had heard some version of the actual events. Did she find it odd that he ended up in Virginia's hospital?  
  
"I should be yelling at you for what you did to her, but it caused the break from your father, so I can only thank the fates that she had the courage to stand up to you! What were you thinking?  
  
Draco withered under his mother's glare. Even though it was four years ago, this was the first time he'd discussed it with her face to face.  
  
"I had a lot of time to think, Mother. And the truth is that I wanted her, odd as it sounds. I wanted her to notice me, to see ME, and not the boy she'd known for five years. Unfortunately, I didn't know how NOT to be that person. I thought she was ignoring me and it drove me mad!"  
  
Draco stared blankly into space for a moment, then looked into his mother's eyes. They were soft eyes, so unlike his and his father's.  
  
"And now," she asked gently, squeezing his hand.  
  
"I want the same thing," he answered helplessly. "But I'm too late. She's going to be married."  
  
Narcissa's brow wrinkled. "That's odd. Molly didn't—," she broke off, still looking confused. "Are you sure? She told you herself?"  
  
Draco gave a bitter laugh. "No, Mother, she's not speaking to me."  
  
He told her about the row they'd had earlier, and how he hadn't had a chance to explain. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a careful hug.  
  
"Oh, my love, what are we going to do about that temper? If you'd just been calm, it wouldn't have happened. But cheer up! Why would she care what you said, if she didn't care about you? Give her time, let her cool down, then use that wonderful smile you save for special occasions."  
  
She leaned back and smiled at him, but now Draco frowned.  
  
"Its not that easy, Mother. I left without really saying goodbye. I didn't contact her at all in the last four years. And even you know I was a bad enough bargain when I was still rich. But now I have nothing! No money, no home, hell, I don't even have a job! What can I offer her now?"  
  
"Oh," Narcissa said as if startled. "Did I miss something? You didn't tell me she was a gold digger. Well, that does change things, doesn't it?"  
  
Draco gave his mother a glare. "She's not a gold digger. I never said that!" He looked away and sighed. "I don't even think she cares about money."  
  
"Well, love, then why do you? You've had four years to get used to the idea of not being rich. Would you really let THAT keep you from the girl you love? Most people start out with nothing."  
  
Narcissa gave Draco an uncharacteristic stern look. "I wouldn't put too much stock in this 'fiancé'. In fact, Molly told me her daughter was distressed that the man kept asking. He should learn to take no for an answer. And you! You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You're supposed to go after what you want! Do you want her or not?"  
  
Draco gave his mother a surprised look. He'd never heard her talk like this before. It was as though she had suddenly grown up overnight. She wasn't the helpless little creature who'd been terrorized by her husband. He decided he liked this new version of Narcissa Malfoy. And maybe she really could take care of herself.  
  
"All right, Mother, I'll try." He gave her a weak grin and took her hands in his. "But what if she tells ME no? Should I take no for an answer?"  
  
She gave him a wicked grin. "Now, THAT'S a different story. You're a Malfoy, and you don't take no for an answer!"  
  
Draco laughed weakly, then changed the subject. "How long can you stay?"  
  
"Not very, dear," she answered. "It's a very busy time at the Ministry and I really had to dig my heels in to get today off. But by the time you're ready to come home, I'll have more time. Oh!"  
  
She jumped off the bed and started slapping at her robe, searching the pockets. She finally found what she wanted and withdrew an envelope. Handing it to Draco, she said, "Happy Birthday, love. How does it feel to be twenty-two?"  
  
Draco stared at the envelope for a moment. Damn, it WAS his birthday, and he'd completely forgotten! Taking the envelope, he grinned at his mother and opened it. Inside was a birthday card and some photographs. They were taken during the only vacation Draco had ever taken alone with his mother. They were at some seaside resort, laughing, building sand castles, and frolicking in the sea. Draco looked at the photos and felt a knot trying to form in his throat. They'd been so happy there, without Lucius to find fault, or to insult and browbeat or harangue them. Even though he'd been eaten up with guilt, Draco had secretly wished Lucius would just die so they could stay forever.  
  
"Thank you, Mother," he said in a tight voice.  
  
"I know you don't really have room for photos, but they don't take much space. But I'll take them back with me, if you'd like."  
  
He gripped them tightly and shook his head. "No, I'd like to keep them."  
  
Narcissa smiled. "I hoped you would. Now," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "tell me about what you've been doing."  
  
They talked for some time, but Draco was careful to steer the conversation away from the Weasley family. His mother told him about her social life, what she did away from the office, and all the current gossip. She also said, almost guiltily, that there was a very nice man working in the Department of Travel, who had taken her to dinner a few times. Draco was glad to hear it. She deserved someone 'nice' after so many years of Lucius.  
  
The lunch hour had come and gone. One of the medics brought a tray with enough food for both of them. It consisted of a delicious looking roast beef sandwich for Narcissa, and much to Draco's disgust, beef broth and biscuits for him. He knew his abused stomach couldn't handle anything else, but it didn't make it easier. After eating, Draco was feeling exhausted and sore, and he really had to use the bathroom. But he hadn't seen his mother for years, and she could only stay the day. Finally, though, Narcissa stood and smoothed her robes.  
  
"I wish I could stay longer, love," she said, apologizing.  
  
He waved it away. "We'll have lots of time, now," he said.  
  
Narcissa leaned over to give him a brief kiss. When she straightened, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'm so proud of you, son!" she said suddenly. "And remember, son, if she's worth having, she's worth fighting for. Just don't hurt the man." Then she hurried out of the ward.  
  
Draco watched her go, then painfully got up and started to hobble toward the bathroom at the back of the ward. A medic saw him and cut him off, telling him he'd bring him a bedpan. Cursing, Draco got back into bed. If he weren't so damned tired, he would have pushed the issue. But he felt as weak as a newborn kitten.  
  
When he finished and the bedpan was whisked away, Draco settled back to think. He didn't get a chance, though. A few minutes later, his second in command came by to chat and give Draco a letter the Master Healer had dropped off some time ago. Draco looked around hopefully, but Virginia was apparently long gone. He read the letter and gave it to the other man. They then discussed who would return to their camp to disassemble it, and who would go directly to London. Draco would be laid up for at least the next two days, so he left the arrangements in his friend's hands. The man finally left, and Draco settled back again, only to be interrupted by more of his crew. They wanted to make sure he was all right, and to say goodbye. Most of them were leaving immediately to London, but a few of them were going to their old camp. After they were assured that he was going to be all right, they finally left him, exhausted, to himself.  
  
An older male healer came in and checked Draco over. He pronounced Draco as fit as could be expected, then gave him a draught to help with the pain that was creeping back in. After the man left, Draco settled back in his pillows to think about what had happened, and what his mother had said. He wanted to get things straight in his head while he was still thinking clearly. She seemed to think he might still have a chance with Virginia, and, as she had pointed out, he WAS a Slytherin and a Malfoy. He would just have to go after what he wanted. First, though, he had to get her to listen to him and the best way was to be holding her tightly in his arms, preferably covering her mouth so she couldn't talk back. And what better way of covering her mouth than with his own? Thinking of possible methods to get her where he wanted her, Draco fell asleep.  
  
Ginny felt like she'd been run off her feet. After her conversation with Eric Timmons, she'd been everywhere, meeting with her staff, giving directions, and assigning tasks. She didn't remember it being so much work to assemble the camp in the first place, but that had been two years ago. She also had to deliver Malfoy's letter to him, but he was still visiting with his mother. Thankfully, she found his second in command, a large, burly Scot named MacGregor, and had given him the letter. He assured her that he would pass it along as soon as Mrs. Malfoy left. They got to talking and Ginny explained that she thought the letter would be 'marching orders' for the unit. Mac agreed. Ginny offered see if any of her staff would like to help with closing the unit's camp. He'd happily accepted, saying the more the merrier. Ginny said she would ask for volunteers and have them ready first thing in the morning. This was fine by him. His own crews would be leaving as soon as they got Draco's approval, but they'd be happy for any help Ginny's folks could give them. Normally Ginny would have asked Eric to make the arrangements since he usually volunteered to do those types of things anyway, but he was gone. He'd waited only long enough for Ginny to write his recommendation and he was off. His things were to be forwarded to his family's home for him.  
  
Most of the patients were ready to be discharged. Ginny didn't like the idea of sending them back off when they could be comfortable here, but they seemed anxious to be gone.  
  
Finally, with the more mundane duties taken care of, she took a few of her healers aside to discuss Malfoy's treatment. She'd hated asking one of them to take on her patient, but thought they would understand. One of the older men said he would look in on the young man from time to time, but he was planning to help Mr. MacGregor the following day, so she'd have to take him back then.  
  
Well, Ginny thought, at least she had some time to compose herself before she had to face him again. She left the ward and headed for the women's tent and her cubicle. She didn't get far, though. She was halfway across the compound when a small group of wizards flew overhead and landed in the clearing. They looked very official, all wearing belted, uniform robes and carrying short clubs attached to their belts. Ginny rolled her eyes, knowing she would have to deal with these men before she could get back to her desk. She changed direction and met them as they dismounted their brooms.  
  
"Gentlemen," she said courteously. "Welcome. What can I do for you?"  
  
The men were looking around, as though assessing her camp. One man, apparently the leader, took in her robes and collar tab, and gave her a skeptical look.  
  
"Master Healer Weasley?" he asked somewhat dubiously.  
  
"That's correct," Ginny said, in a bored, superior tone that would have done any Malfoy proud. She'd found that her youth was a liability when working with military and Ministry officials. Assuming a somewhat arrogant manner with them from the outset made them easier to deal with. "State your business and be quick about it!"  
  
Her commanding tone and the crisp order had the desired effect. The man and his companions straightened immediately and he almost snapped a salute.  
  
"I've orders, Ma'am, to take control of the prisoners you treated. I understand there are three of them?"  
  
Ginny almost slapped her forehead. She'd completely forgotten they had prisoners. She hadn't even looked at them today to clear them for transfer. She was careful not to let her expression change, though. She merely nodded and glanced quickly around. A few staff members had stopped to watch the proceedings and Ginny motioned to a pair of young female medics. The two had been friends before the war and had attended a small healing academy here in England before volunteering.  
  
When they had approached, she turned to the man and said, "I'm sure you've had a long day already. These are Medics Nicola and Rhian. They will escort your men to the mess tent and see that they get something to eat. Would you like to join them or accompany me to the prisoners? I have to give them a final examination before I release them to you."  
  
The man glanced at the attractive young medics with regret. "I'll come with you, Ma'am. But if its no problem, my men would be grateful for a break. We've been investigating yesterday's clash since early this morning."  
  
Ginny nodded and spoke to the pair, who were on the verge of giggles at the attention they were getting.  
  
"Nicola, please have someone send a tray over for…" she paused and looked at the man she'd been speaking to.  
  
"Thornton, Ma'am. Sergeant Thornton," he supplied.  
  
She smiled and said, "Have a tray sent to Sergeant Thornton at the containment area. This way, Sergeant."  
  
Ginny led the way to the seldom-used containment area. They'd only had prisoners two or three times before. Fighting was generally very fierce, with few survivors. In fact, Draco's unit had had the most of any unit they'd treated. And, damn it, she was thinking of him as 'Draco', again. She concentrated hard on the sergeant, who was telling her the same thing. He was amazed at finding the bodies of four mountain trolls as well as some twenty other renegades. That Malfoy's band of twenty-three had overcome them, after being taken off guard first thing in the morning, was remarkable. And that with only one fatality and one serious injury! The man couldn't sing Draco's praises loud enough. It was difficult for Ginny not to snap at the man to just shut up, but she managed.  
  
When they arrived at the containment area, Ginny took the sergeant and one of the guards with her. She quickly performed the examinations and pronounced the prisoners ready to be transferred. None of them had been injured more seriously than cuts and bruises, but they complained, nevertheless, that they weren't well enough to travel. Ginny brushed this aside and signed their paperwork.  
  
The tray with the sergeant's food had just arrived, so he decided to stay and eat in the guard shack. Ginny left him to it.  
  
She again headed to her tent and her reports, but was again stopped. Narcissa Malfoy called out to her.  
  
"Master Healer! Miss Weasley!" she called.  
  
In spite of knowing that Draco wanted nothing to do with her, Ginny felt nervous at speaking with his mother. She'd heard from her mum and the twins all about Narcissa and how she'd dealt with her sudden poverty and homelessness. How she'd gotten herself a good job and was now self supporting. And how she'd repaid every knut she'd every borrowed. Her mum actually liked the woman, amazing as it seemed. Narcissa Malfoy may have been helpless at one time, but that time was over. And she was the beautiful, elegant mother of the man Ginny was helplessly attracted to. Ginny smiled nervously.  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy. Did you have a good visit with your son?"  
  
"Oh, yes, it was wonderful," the older woman said. "But I wanted to talk to you about something else. I understand you're getting married, and with all your mother has done for me, I wondered if there was anything I could get for you. You know, as a wedding gift?"  
  
Ginny only stared blankly at her for a moment. Then she said, "Married? Where did you get that idea?"  
  
Now Narcissa looked confused. "Why, my dear, I was certain that nice young man who sent me to you this morning, what was his name? Timms, I think? Well, I was certain he mentioned it."  
  
She said it all so innocently that Ginny fell for the act. Her face flushed and set into hard lines.  
  
"He had no right," she said to herself. Any remorse she might have felt toward him evaporated instantly. Then she remembered Narcissa.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," she said woodenly. "You were misinformed."  
  
Narcissa smiled to herself, but only said, "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Well, I must go now, but if you're in London, please stop and visit. And thank you so much for saving my son."  
  
Ginny tried to brush it off, but Narcissa added, "Oh, I know any good healer could have saved his life, but I meant thank you for saving him from his father. Only you could have done that."  
  
Narcissa quickly hugged Ginny, then held her at arm's length. "You might be able to do better than my son, but I don't think so. Come see me in London."  
  
The elegant woman turned and hurried away. Ginny just stood and stared after her. She closed the mouth that had suddenly dropped open. Why on earth would Narcissa Malfoy say something like that unless she had some reason to believe Draco cared about her. She wouldn't, would she? Ginny didn't know what to think. She hadn't misheard what Draco had said, but maybe she'd misunderstood?  
  
She wanted to go talk to him right now, but she saw Sergeant Thornton approaching, motioning to her. Biting back a sigh, she waited for him to catch up with her.  
  
"Master Healer," he said in a much more respectful voice than he'd used at first. "I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality, and let you know that we're off now."  
  
Ginny looked behind him and saw that the three prisoners seemed to be not only bound but under a restraining spell. One of the guards was holding a box containing, presumably, port keys back to the detention center in London. Each prisoner had two escorts for the trip back. She shivered slightly, knowing they were possibly headed to their deaths for treason. Looking back to the sergeant, she nodded.  
  
"Is there anything else we can help you with?"  
  
"No, thanks, ma'am. We'll just be off and out of your hair."  
  
The sergeant nodded at her and turned back to his men. They all took up their brooms, took the port keys, and disappeared. Ginny moved back to her tent. She sat down with a weary sigh and looked at the stacks of paperwork which seemed to have multiplied in the hours that she'd been out. Then, resigned, she reached out and took the first report off the top of the pile.  
  
Several hours later, Ginny had plowed through most of the stack. It was dark outside, and the growling in her stomach told her she'd missed supper. She didn't really have any idea what time it was, but she wandered over to the mess tent to see if she could get a bite. The camp felt eerily empty, even though only Eric had left as yet. She figured many people were saying their goodbyes to the friends they'd made, or packing the few personal items they'd accumulated.  
  
One of the cooks was still in the mess tent and brought her a plate of food he'd kept warm for her. Ginny thanked him, but found that she could only pick at it. She wanted to go see Draco, but every time she thought about what he'd said earlier, her stomach knotted up. She finally decided to just look in on him, without speaking. She took her plate to the scullery, then headed to the hospital ward.  
  
The ward was mostly dark and very quiet. Draco was the only patient left, and the duty medic was quietly doing paperwork at her desk. She jumped up when she saw Ginny, but Ginny waved her back down.  
  
"How is the patient?" she asked.  
  
"Been sleeping most of the evening," the medic told her. "He woke an hour ago, but he wouldn't let old Jonesy look at him. Was quite rude about it, too. Wouldn't take any supper either. He's asleep now."  
  
The medic said it lightly enough, but the speculative look in her eyes made Ginny wonder what exactly Draco had said. She almost asked, but decided against it.  
  
"If he was rude, you should have come to get me," Ginny said.  
  
The medic sniggered. "Oh, Jonesy was up to his weight! Told the git he sounded like a three year old without a nap, then sent the git right back to sleep!"  
  
Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sudden laugh that threatened to escape. She could see it, too. Obviously Draco Malfoy was still Draco Malfoy. Surprising as it seemed, she felt reassured that his bad temper had fallen on more people than just her. It mad her feel that perhaps his outburst earlier hadn't been a personal attack.  
  
"I guess I'll just look in on him," she said, trying to sound casual.  
  
The medic grinned. "Think I can take a bit of a break, then?"  
  
Ginny smiled, thankful for the dim light that hid her blush. "Sure. I'll keep an eye on everything until you get back."  
  
The medic left quickly as Ginny headed down the central aisle. His curtains weren't drawn, and she saw that he did seem to be sleeping. She moved quietly to his bedside and saw that he still looked pale and drawn. She took his wrist to check his pulse, and was delighted to note that it was strong and steady. She released his hand and glanced around. The basin was gone from the small table, but there was a birthday card propped against the water jug.  
  
A birthday card? Ginny looked guiltily at Draco, then reached out and took the card from where it was propped. As she lifted it, several photographs slipped from inside the card. They fell to the floor and scattered at her feet. Ginny glanced up quickly, but Draco was still asleep. She hurriedly gathered up the photographs and almost stuffed them back into the card, but she glanced at the first one and stopped. It was an old photograph, no doubt of that. Draco looked to be about seven or eight years old. His hair was even whiter than it was now, and, without the muscle tone he would develop over the years, he was painfully thin. But his expression was something she'd never seen on him before. He was mugging for the camera and his arms were wrapped around Narcissa's neck, but he looked so HAPPY! As though he'd been caught on the best day of his life. Ginny looked from the photo to the living person, seeing very little of the little boy in the man lying asleep in front of her. She flipped through the photographs, seeing Draco and his mother obviously on holiday and having what looked like a wonderful time. Ginny noticed that Draco's father was nowhere to be found in the pictures, and wondered if that was why they seemed so happy. She felt her throat tighten as she wondered what had happened to that sweet, innocent little boy to turn him into the person she'd known in school. It hurt to look at the photos, so she returned them to the card and replaced it where it had been. She looked at him again and wished with all her might that she could do something to bring that smile to his face.  
  
Draco stirred slightly, turning onto his side, and Ginny froze. Would he wake up? But, no, he slept on. She sighed and reached up to stroke back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. A stir from the front of the ward made her snatch her hand back. The medic had returned. Ginny gave Draco a last look and left the ward.  
  
The following morning Ginny was up early. She would be losing half of her staff today to reassignment, and almost half of those left had volunteered to help MacGregor and his people, so they'd be off soon, too. Breakfast had been served very early and now most everyone was just hanging about waiting to say goodbye to friends or for the Master Healer to give them permission to go. Ginny made her own farewells and watched as her 'family' of the last two years left.  
  
The camp felt quiet and empty. Ginny already felt lonely. She hadn't had any really close friends, but she'd come to love everyone here. Deciding she might as well shower and change, she grabbed her things and hurried to the bathroom. But there was no need to hurry today. There weren't enough people left in camp to have to fight for the hot water with. But she decided against a long, leisurely shower, wanting to get to the ward and finally talk to Draco. After she finished, Ginny returned to her tent to drop off her bath items and finish her last report. It only took a short time and she was hurrying to the hospital ward.  
  
Draco woke up early to hear the medics and healers calling goodbyes to their friends. He felt groggy, as though he'd slept too long. Then he remembered the crusty old healer telling him not to act like a spoiled three year old before sending him to sleep again. Draco grinned. He had been acting like a spoiled child. He'd done it on purpose to get Virginia to come to him. But he hadn't figured on the old man knocking him out like that. He hadn't even bothered to tell Virginia, just drew out his wand and zap! Draco was asleep again. Oh, well, he would just have to try something else. He remembered when Virginia had locked him up all those years ago. She'd become frantic when he hadn't eaten and had actually threatened to force feed him. Draco shivered. He couldn't even look at fudge anymore without smelling lavender and feeling his body react to the memory of the sweet, chocolaty taste on Virginia's strong, slim fingers. Bloody hell, he thought with disgust as he felt a tightening in his groin and a stab of pain in his lower abdomen. He couldn't help but react to the memory even now. Especially now, because he could swear he smelled her scent and had felt her presence while he was sleeping.  
  
This was pathetic, he told himself. Virginia Weasley was not speaking to him, and with good reason. She was going to marry that idiot unless he could talk her out of it. Hell, he hadn't even spoken to her in years. But here he was, stiff, miserable, aroused and she wasn't even here! After a few minutes the feeling passed, but he was now in a filthy mood again. He was sore, his muscles were stiff, and he probably smelled horrible. He wanted a hot shower (or maybe a cold one would be a better idea), and something solid to eat. If they brought him broth again, he'd probably end up chucking it at someone's head. At that moment, a cheerful voice called down the aisle, and one of the staff healers was walking briskly toward him, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl. This was not going to be a good morning.  
  
Ginny entered the ward and glanced to where Draco should be lying, eating breakfast. Instead she saw a medic with a mop, and an angry, red-faced healer dragging bedding from the mattress.  
  
"What happened?" Ginny asked, hurrying over.  
  
"Oh, that Malfoy!" the healer snapped. "If he's fit enough to go tossing his breakfast about, he's bloody well fit enough to shove off!"  
  
"He WHAT?" Ginny asked, seeing what looked like soup or broth still dripping from the curtains around the bed, the tray and bowl stacked haphazardly on the chair and the bedside table cupboard hanging open.  
  
"What happened," she asked as the healer angrily tossed the bedding on top of the chair.  
  
Ginny helped her make up the bed again with clean linen as the woman told her the story.  
  
"Well, I come in, cheerful-like, you know? It was a beautiful morning and we're going home in a few weeks, right? So I collects Malfoy's breakfast, some nice broth, biscuits, and tea, and bring it along to him. When he sees it, his face goes a bit red. He takes the tray, polite-like, but as soon as my back's turned, he up and chucks the lot right at the wall! Broth and tea everywhere! Then he gets out of bed, grabs his clothes, and sort of growls that he don't need no bloody help to take a shower. Off he goes, leaving us with this mess to clean up!"  
  
Ginny was torn between wanting to laugh at her healer's indignation and anger at Draco for upsetting her staff and disregarding her order to have someone help him to the shower. He'd been horribly rude to her personnel, and reminded her of the rich, arrogant git he'd been in school. She frowned and assured the healer she would deal with Mr. Malfoy. Something in her voice made the healer stop her, though.  
  
"Well, now, ma'am, I was upset, to be sure, but Malfoy WAS polite about it. He said he'd clean up the mess he'd made when he was done, and even apologized for upsetting me. Take it easy on him, right? He's probably just one of those what don't take well to confinement. Most these military types love to give orders, but hate to take 'em."  
  
Ginny gave her an odd look. "Well, are you angry with him or not?"  
  
The healer gave Ginny a smile. "A man what looks like that, well, he's sorta hard to stay mad at, isn't he?"  
  
Ginny sighed, but had to agree. It wasn't so much his looks, but the way he looked at you. Even after so long, she remembered the pull she'd felt when he said her name softly and looked into her eyes. Shaking herself, she excused herself and headed for the shower. Regardless of how polite he'd been afterward, he couldn't just go around bullying her staff and causing them extra work.  
  
As she crossed the compound, Ginny again noticed how empty it seemed already. The shower and bathroom facility was, naturally, the farthest out from the camp, and it looked deserted. Ginny wondered briefly if she should wait for him to come out before confronting him, but she was afraid she might lose her nerve. Steeling herself, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.  
  
Draco stood under the hot stream of water and cursed himself again. When Virginia heard about this latest incident she'd think him the stupid, bullying git she'd known in school. His damned temper was going to ruin everything. Which was stupid, because he hadn't had any problems controlling his temper until he'd gotten here. It must be a combination of jealousy, lust, and longing. He was right back at the middle of his seventh year, when he'd wanted her to see past the bullying exterior, but hadn't known how.  
  
He gingerly ran the washcloth he'd snatched from the clean linen shelf over his abdomen, wincing as his fingers ran over the scar from his injury. It didn't really hurt right now, but it felt ugly. He glanced down and saw that it WAS ugly. It was an ugly, twisted knot of skin that would probably get smaller with time, but was disgusting right now. Frowning, Draco continued to wash, letting the hot water roll over him and work the stiffness from his muscles.  
  
He was just about to turn the water off when he heard the door open and slam shut. He would have locked it, but he'd been too angry. Now he'd have to face some irate medic or healer bleating at him about being too weak to shower himself. He turned off the water, and then he heard her voice.  
  
"All right, Malfoy, let's have it out now," Ginny said. Her voice sounded breathy to her, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't really thought she'd catch him naked. But the view she was looking at really was breathtaking. He was much more well muscled in the back and shoulders than she'd thought. His waist was slender, and his buttocks and legs were lean and tautly muscled. She couldn't help wonder what it might feel like to take the bar of soap from his hands and run it all over that long, lean body.  
  
While Ginny waited breathlessly for Draco to turn around and face her, Draco was suffering from his own problems. The instant he'd heard her voice, he'd reacted again. And this time his reaction was stronger than before. The pull in his lower abdomen was much sharper. And he couldn't do anything except stand here, dripping, naked and with a monstrous erection! Could things get worse? He tried to act aloof, but knew he couldn't turn around. That would just show her how much she affected him.  
  
"What kind of camp are you running here," he asked with a trace of his old drawl. "Do you always just walk in on a fellow when he's taking a shower? Aren't there easier ways to get your thrills, little weasel?"  
  
Ginny gritted her teeth. "DON'T call me that, Malfoy. I told you once before that I'd smash your arrogant face in if you did, and I meant it!"  
  
Draco remembered. That had been just before she'd gone and almost gotten herself killed! He looked over his shoulder and saw that she was standing much the same way. Her feet were braced and her hands were fisted. Her face was lightly flushed and the robe she wore was damp and clinging from the steam in the room. Dragging his gaze away from her, he forced himself to laugh.  
  
"I'd like to see you try, little weasel. You shouldn't make threats you can't back up."  
  
Idiot, he thought. He was supposed to be trying to get back in her good graces, but every time he opened his mouth, it just got worse and worse. He was about to apologize when he heard the distinct crack of a towel being snapped. He heard it a split second before he felt the hot, stinging pain of the towel as it struck his buttocks. With a small yelp, Draco spun around and saw her whipping the towel, HIS towel around in a tight circle, preparing to smack him again!  
  
"You STRUCK me!" he bellowed, staring at her.  
  
Ginny almost froze when he whirled around. She willed herself to focus on his face so she wouldn't become distracted by what she'd seen for a split second. His expression was angry and astounded, but other parts of him were telling another story. Ginny almost burst into nervous giggles. Clearing her throat and pulling the towel back in her hands, she said, "Oh, I'll do more than just strike you, Malfoy, if you keep calling me by that insulting name!"  
  
She didn't know how he did it, but one second he was standing in the shower stall, glowering at her, and the next he had her by the shoulders, pinning her against the wall. Ginny looked helplessly up into his angry face. His hands moved from her shoulders to her neck, encircling it easily.  
  
"What more can you do to me, little weasel," he asked, his voice suddenly low and rough. "You've already ripped my heart out with your vicious little claws. Are you going to tear it apart now?"  
  
He felt the pulse beating rapidly under his thumbs, as he had before. But instead of fighting him off, or even giving him the blank look she had so many times before, Virginia brought a hand up to his bare chest. She brushed her hand down, tracing the light dusting of damp hair on his chest.  
  
"So soft," she whispered.  
  
Then she brought her eyes up to his. Her hands moved up to his neck and she held him as he was holding her. He felt lost when she closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her lips seeking his.  
  
"Please, Draco, kiss me," she breathed softly.  
  
Swallowing a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He crushed her lips with his mouth and she responded eagerly. His tongue brushed her teeth and lips until she gently sucked at it. Then he thrust it into her mouth, exploring every moist, warm nook he could reach. His hands moved down her back to her waist and he gripped her hips tightly. Ginny pushed her hips forward, wanting to feel him, hard and hot against her. Waves of heat were crashing over her, making her feel light headed and weak. Her now damp robes were clinging and hampering her movements, but created a delicious friction everywhere their bodies touched. She was sure her knees were going to give out when Draco pulled slightly away. He was breathing hard, and he leaned against her, resting his forehead against the cold wall behind her. Suddenly his body stiffened against her. He would have tried to pull away, but Ginny wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly.  
  
"Damn it, Virginia. Let go." His voice was shaky but that didn't disguise the hurt in it when he said, "What would your fiancé say if he found you like this?"  
  
"Well, I imagine he'd be quite upset, if I had a fiancé," she said, focusing on his chest.  
  
Draco stopped trying to loose himself. "What about Timmons?" he growled, pulling her face up to look at him.  
  
Ginny clicked her tongue. "What is it about him? Why does everyone seem to think I'm going to marry him?"  
  
Draco gave her a skeptical look. "Um, probably because he told your brother and several other people that you said you would. That you wanted a June wedding."  
  
Now Ginny tried to push away, but Draco had moved closer and was pressing against her again, making her want to blush and drag her clothes off at the same time. He seemed to be having the same thoughts, because his hands came up to the fastenings of her robe.  
  
"Are you telling me that you're really not engaged? That you're not marrying that…" His voice trailed off as he ran his tongue from her ear to her neck.  
  
"Stop it, Draco! I want to know…oh!" He'd slipped his hands inside the damp robe and was now brushing them over the slope of her breasts. His hard thumbs brushed over the stiff peaks, making her gasp.  
  
"What, Virginia? What do you want to know?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear and driving her mad.  
  
"Nothing," she sighed. "It's not important."  
  
She ran her hands over his bare back and down over the smooth buttocks. He shivered as she brought her hands around to his front, before grabbing them and growling, "Let's get more comfortable!"  
  
He dragged her over to one of the oversized benches and sank onto it, pulling her around in front of him.  
  
"Let's get rid of these," he said, pulling at her robe. He dropped it on the floor and looked at what he'd revealed.  
  
Underneath, she wore another, thinner robe on top of thin, silky cream coloured long underwear. He pulled the under-robe away and gazed up at her, his eyes dark with longing. She laughed nervously as he eyed the silky garments she still wore. She'd dressed for warmth, not seduction.  
  
"Gods, you're so beautiful," he breathed, and in that moment, despite the long underwear and the fact that she was wearing plain white cotton underwear, Ginny FELT beautiful.  
  
He ran his hands over the silky top and pants, leaving Ginny feeling hot and breathless. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her forward, burying his face in her soft stomach.  
  
Hooking his fingers in the waistband of the pants and underwear, he dragged them down and caught his breath as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the garments. Suddenly, he pulled her onto his lap, with her legs straddling his. Ginny gasped again, but this time at the sudden contact between them. Draco was now working on the hem of the blouse when she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him.  
  
"What is it?" he murmured thickly, his hands still running up and down her spine. It was all he could do not to just lift her slightly and bury himself deep inside her warmth. He could feel her heat and wetness already and he'd barely touched her.  
  
Ginny buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed and afraid of his reaction to what she was about to say.  
  
"I, er, I don't—," she stopped, not knowing how to say it.  
  
Draco stiffened and pulled her away from him, looking into her eyes.  
  
"What? You don't want to make love with me? Is that it?" Dear Gods, he prayed. Don't let her not want him!  
  
"No!" she said quickly. "It's not that. I want to! It's just that I've never, that is, I don't know…" She broke off and tried to scramble from his lap. "Oh, hell," she muttered when he wouldn't let her go. "I'm a virgin! I don't know what to do!"  
  
She sounded so forlorn that Draco had to smile. His heart started beating again.  
  
"Then let me show you, love," he whispered, taking her hand and moving it between them. "Come love me, Virginia!" he whispered, covering her mouth with his.  
  
  
  
A/N: Ack! Shades of Harlequin romances! Epilogue will be short and up in a few days. Amy, here is your happy ending. Sorry, but I'm really lousy at the love scenes, even the mild ones in 'Dragon Kisses' and 'Polyjuice Potion'. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews and encourages. I'm going to finish 'Harry's Valentine', then probably try to write an original fic. Thanks again to everyone. Take care and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story (this chapter is really choppy, too much detail and not enough romance, but hopefully the end maked up for it.) K. 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Ack! Did I really say 'maked' at the end of the last chapter!? Spell check didn't even catch it and neither did I! Oh, well, sorry about that.  
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
Ginny woke feeling deliciously warm and lazy, and just a little sore. She stretched and thought how good it felt to be so warm and snug, even though she wasn't wearing anything but her socks. Her SOCKS? Her eyes opened quickly and she found herself staring into amused gray eyes. Oh, Gods, she had just made love with Draco and had fallen asleep? Ginny felt her face turning red as she tried to sit up, but he chuckled and placed his hand on her shoulder, holding her down.  
  
"Don't you know it's the man who is supposed to roll over and fall asleep after lovemaking?" he said with a grin. "I guess I still have a lot to teach you."  
  
Ginny closed her eyes and groaned. "Please tell me I didn't actually FALL ASLEEP!"  
  
She covered her face, but he pulled her hands away and placed a kiss on her nose.  
  
"Sound asleep," he smiled. "Did you know you snore? A delicate, feminine little snore, but a snore nonetheless."  
  
Ginny tried to cover her face again, but he prevented her. "Don't worry. You were smiling the whole time, so I must have done something right!"  
  
Ginny gave him a mock glare. "You mean you watched me sleep?"  
  
Draco laughed and nudged her onto her side, then nestled himself against her back. He wrapped an arm around her waist and said, "Oh, only about fifteen minutes. Just enough time for me to want to start over!"  
  
He moved his hand up to cup her breast, delighting in the way she arched her back and pushed against his hand. It didn't hurt that her bottom was pressing against his groin, either. He knew he would be sore and that his stomach wound would ache later, but he didn't care. All he cared about was this soft, luscious woman who seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. He was very surprised, then, when she wriggled out of his grasp.  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked, pushing himself to a sitting position next to her.  
  
This was so embarrassing, she thought. She hadn't given any thought to contraceptive potions or spells. Well, she hadn't really expected to walk in and jump on Draco either, had she? But she was thinking about it now. If she could just get her wand, then slip around the corner to where the sinks were hidden from view, she could easily cast a spell. But did one do that in front of her lover? She didn't know and wasn't about to ask.  
  
"I, er," she said lamely, casting about for an excuse to leave for a moment. "The DOOR!" she cried, moving toward where Draco had carelessly dropped her robe on the floor.  
  
He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back to the bench. With a negligent movement of his free hand, he waved toward the door. Ginny heard the unmistakable snick of the lock engaging.  
  
"It's locked," he said in a carefully neutral voice. "Was that all?"  
  
Draco was near panic, but tried not to show it. Virginia was up to something. She was trying to get away from him. Was she having second thoughts? He'd tried to be gentle and consider her needs first, but he really didn't have that much more experience than she did. He'd only begun having sexual relations in his sixth year. Always with the older, more experienced girls, but still, in a setting like Hogwarts, there wasn't much time or privacy. Then, in his seventh year, he'd become obsessed with this beautiful woman he was holding next to him right now, and there hadn't been anyone since! Had he hurt her somehow, without even knowing it?  
  
If Draco was ready to panic, Ginny was on the verge of bolting! What if she got pregnant and Draco thought she was trying to trap him into a relationship? She had to get at her wand! But she couldn't just blurt out something like, 'Right, then, think I'll just go zap my womb so no little nippers come along.'  
  
Shuddering at the thought of trying to explain, she tried a different tack.  
  
"Well, er, I'd like to slip round the corner and, um, you know, clean up a bit?"  
  
It sounded lame even to her. They had a lovely shower right in front of them, and he'd already seen her naked (except the socks, of course). It did seem a bit late for modesty.  
  
Draco knew she was trying to get away from him now. But he'd be damned if he'd let her go without a fight. Slipping to his knees, he moved in front of her, pushing between her knees. Then he rested one hand on her thigh and stared into her eyes. Ginny gasped as the hand on her leg began to move slowly upward. Gods, that felt so wonderful, she thought with a shiver.  
  
With his other hand, Draco motioned slightly, and Ginny watched, still amazed at how he performed magic without a wand. That was powerful magic, indeed. When he beckoned, the washcloth he'd discarded floated off the ground. It hung in mid air as the water taps turned and hot water began to spray from the showerhead. The washcloth was saturated, then the water was turned off. Finally, the cloth floated gently over to Draco's waiting hand. He squeezed the excess water out, and neatly folded the cloth in half. His eyes never left her face, and the intent look he was giving her left her almost breathless.  
  
"Let me," he said hoarsely, finally looking away from her face.  
  
His gaze softened as he ran the cloth lovingly up the inside of one slim thigh. Ginny sighed and leaned back, eyes closed and lips parted, as he ran the cloth over the exquisitely sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. All thoughts of wands and spells flew completely out of her mind. He continued to tease, stroking up to just below the juncture of her legs, then he stroked back down again.  
  
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked softly.  
  
Ginny's eyes opened and she saw that he was staring at her face again, his expression one of pain and sorrow. She opened her eyes wider. Why did he look so sad?  
  
"Draco, what is it?" she asked, reaching down to stop his teasing hand.  
  
"I just want to know what's wrong? Why are you trying to leave me? Did I hurt you? Or…"  
  
He wanted to ask if she wanted to leave because she couldn't face being the lover of an 'evil Malfoy', but he found he didn't want an answer to that question.  
  
Ginny's hand tightened on his. She looked down, face flaming.  
  
"I wanted to, er, use a spell. That's all. I just didn't know how to tell you."  
  
"A spell," he repeated blankly. He had no idea what she was talking about.  
  
"A contraceptive, you know, to prevent pregnancy." Now Ginny's face was burning. She'd never been so embarrassed!  
  
Draco's reply was totally unexpected. His hands tightened on her thighs and he said in a leaden voice, "You wouldn't want my child?"  
  
Ginny's head snapped up. His face looked frozen in a mask of anger and hurt. Then she understood that he thought she was rejecting him! She leaned forward to cradled his head in her arms. He resisted at first, but she wouldn't let go and he finally allowed her to pull him to her breast.  
  
"I would love to have your baby, Draco. I just don't think this is the right time. And I didn't know if you'd even want to have a baby with me. It's not like we've discussed it, you know."  
  
Draco pulled back and looked up, his expression still wary.  
  
"If you don't want a child right now, that's fine. But please understand this," he told her seriously. "I want you. Always. I don't have anything to offer you right now, and I might never have much. But I will always love you and try to make you happy. If you'll give me the chance."  
  
Ginny stared into his stormy eyes. He loved her? He wanted to make a life with her? She hadn't realized the extent of his feelings for her. It might seem hard to believe, given their unusual relationship. But Ginny discovered that her feelings were just as deep, odd as it might seem. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes.  
  
"I love you, too, Draco," she whispered.  
  
Draco gave her a small smile.  
  
"I guess we went about things a bit backward, didn't we?" he asked quietly.  
  
Ginny laughed and leaned forward to press a light kiss on his lips.  
  
"I'm not complaining," she answered playfully. "But I still need to, er, clean up?"  
  
Draco grinned at her words, especially as she had given the hand holding the washcloth an encouraging squeeze.  
  
"First things first," he said, laying one lean, strong hand on her belly.  
  
His eyes burned into hers as he whispered a spell to prevent pregnancy. Ginny didn't feel the spell, but the feeling of power flowing from Draco's hand was astonishing. And exciting. She felt herself tingling all over, but especially where he had been caressing her earlier. She closed her eyes slowly as he moved forward to press his lips against the smooth area between her breasts. Then he moved his mouth to one hard peak and took it between his lips. Ginny caught her breath as he tugged gently, feeling the pull all the way down her belly to her very center. Waves of desire washed over her, and she brought her hands up to tangle restless fingers in his hair.  
  
Draco moved to the other breast and let one hand begin moving up her thigh again. He gently wiped away the last traces of their previous lovemaking, then brought his thumb up to brush the small bud of flesh hidden between her soft folds of skin. Ginny gasped again, her fingers tightening in his hair. Then his mouth left her breast. Ginny made a small, protesting sound that turned into a moan of pleasure when his mouth moved to where his hand had just been.  
  
  
  
They left the shower facilities some time later, with Draco leaning on Ginny's shoulder for support. As he'd suspected, his stomach was beginning to ache. But he needed the support more because, after three bouts of very satisfying lovemaking, he was exhausted. Ginny wasn't in much better shape, but at least she wasn't wounded. She grinned at nothing, knowing that if any of the staff were watching out for them, it would be obvious what had kept them. Fortunately, none of the staff seemed to be about. At least, none of them were standing about, gawking. They were almost to the hospital tent when Ginny felt Draco's arm stiffen around her shoulder. Concerned, she looked up at him, but he was looking over her head, toward the clearing. Before she could see what he was looking at, though, his eyes met hers.  
  
"I love you," he said quietly.  
  
Ginny smiled. It was the second time he'd come out and said it, and she found she loved hearing it.  
  
"I—I love you, too," she answered shakily.  
  
He leaned over and kissed her. It wasn't a hungry, possessive kiss, but it was so sweet and tender, it almost broke her heart. Then she heard a loud whooping shout and someone calling her name.  
  
"Oi, Ginny! Go find a hotel!"  
  
Ginny broke away and turned to see her brother Bill walking quickly toward her, carrying his broom. He had a huge grin on his face. This was surprising enough, but then she saw Eric Timmons following closely behind him. And if Bill's face was a mirror of happiness, Eric's was hate personified.  
  
"See?" she heard Eric saying. "What did I tell you? Put some sort of spell on her!"  
  
Draco's arm tightened a bit more, then relaxed. But he kept it securely around her shoulders.  
  
"Bill!" Ginny called, waving to her brother. What was going on? What was Bill doing here, especially with Eric?  
  
Bill finally reached her and dragged her away from Draco. He wrapped his arm around her and lifted her in a huge bear hug. Ginny hugged him back, laughing when he settled her back on the ground next to Draco.  
  
"Malfoy," Bill said with a grin, nodding at him.  
  
"Weasley," Draco nodded back and put his arm around Ginny's shoulders again.  
  
Everyone seemed to be making a point of ignoring the irate medic, which seemed to enrage him further.  
  
"Well, Weasley, aren't you going to do anything?" he demanded.  
  
Bill turned and gave him a dark look.  
  
"As a matter of fact, Timmons, I'm going to do something right now."  
  
He turned back to Ginny and Draco and stuck his hand out.  
  
"Congratulations, Malfoy. Take good care of my sister."  
  
Bill ignored the disbelieving squawking sounds Timmons was making and added, "Sorry to keep you out here like this. Ginny, why don't you get Malfoy back into bed? Poor man looks dead on his feet!"  
  
Ginny flushed slightly, but nodded. But Draco pulled back.  
  
"Thanks, Weasley, I'll do my best. But what ARE you doing here?"  
  
"Are the family all right?" Ginny asked, concerned. "The twins okay?"  
  
Bill waved their questions away. "Everyone is fine. I just came because Medic Timmons here seemed to thing Malfoy put some sort of Imperius curse on you. Said you weren't being yourself. You seem just fine to me, though."  
  
Timmons jumped in at that moment.  
  
"Fine? FINE!? How can you say that when she's with that piece of filth!?"  
  
Timmons was waving his arms in agitation as he continued.  
  
"And look at them! Can't you see he's been at her? That he's f—,"  
  
The rest was cut off as Ginny's hand connected resoundingly with his cheek. Timmons' head snapped back and he stumbled a few steps backward.  
  
Bill and Draco looked on, astonished at the speed and ferocity of her attack.  
  
"Well done, sis," Bill said with a whistle of admiration.  
  
"Get out of my camp," Ginny hissed at Timmons. "If I ever see you here again, if you ever talk to me again, I'll tear your heart out! Do you understand?"  
  
Timmons was holding the side of his face, as astonished as the others. But her words brought him out of his daze.  
  
"I understand," he answered harshly. "But what you don't understand is that you already have!"  
  
He abruptly turned away and left. Ginny looked with wide eyes at Draco. He felt a moment of pity for the medic. If he'd been in the same position, he would have tried anything to get this woman back. Hell, he had been ready to try anything an hour ago, when he thought she didn't want him. Pulling her into his arms, he stroked her short hair and murmured softly to her.  
  
Bill watched Timmons leave, then turned back to his sister.  
  
"About damned time, you know."  
  
"What?" Draco demanded. Bill only shook his head.  
  
"Let's get you inside first. Then we'll talk."  
  
Once Draco was comfortably settled, Bill sat on the chair while Ginny perched on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Okay, Bill, give. What are you doing here, and what did you mean?"  
  
Bill stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his head. Smiling, he glanced over at the bedside table, where Draco's clothing, now washed, mended and folded, had been placed.  
  
"Still have that, do you?" he asked, lifting one of the items that had been laid on top of the clothing.  
  
It appeared to be a square of parchment wrapped round with a tattered green ribbon. Ginny's eyes widened when she saw it.  
  
"Here, that's mine," Draco declared, trying to grab it back. Ginny got to it first and snatched it from Bill's hand.  
  
She turned wide eyes toward Draco again, silently asking the question. Draco didn't answer, he merely looked awkwardly at his hands. Ginny untied the ribbon and unfolded the parchment. She read the words again, blushing at how mean it had been. But she noticed that the words were very blurry, as though they'd been rubbed at quite a bit. She turned to Draco again, and he took the scrap from her hand. He carefully began to trace the letters with his finger.  
  
"It was all I had of you," he said quietly, looking at the writing. "You wrote this with your strong, clever hands. Just touching it made me feel like I was touching you again."  
  
"Then, why didn't you ever write me?"  
  
When Draco didn't answer, Bill cut in.  
  
"Probably because he didn't think he had enough to offer you. Stupid git didn't realize you didn't want anything but him."  
  
Ginny's eyes were filling with tears, but She had to giggle at Bill's pronouncement. He was probably right. Even Draco smiled.  
  
"Well, I didn't—don't have anything. But I'll be damned if I'll wait any longer. You're stuck with me now, Virginia, for better or worse."  
  
Bill let out a hoot of laughter. "Well, that was a damned sorry proposal, if ever I heard one!"  
  
Two pairs of eyes turned to glare at him, but he just shrugged and grinned. "Well, it was," he declared.  
  
Then he sat up straighter. "And I never got an answer from either of you. I'm getting my team together for Gringotts as soon as possible, and I need to know if you're going to be joining me?"  
  
Ginny looked at Draco, surprised. "You asked Draco?" she said at almost the same time he asked, "You want Virginia?"  
  
"I want you both!" Bill told them, exasperated. "And I was getting bloody tired of watching you both ruining your lives by trying to ignore the other. Just as well you got together now, instead of me having to watch it on location somewhere. Bloody sick making!"  
  
Bill rolled his eyes dramatically and Ginny laughed. Draco smiled weakly, thinking that in spite of himself, these Weasleys were getting under his skin. He already had a soft spot in his heart for Mrs. Weasley after his mother had told him about how she'd really helped her. And the twins, George and Fred, too. He sighed. Five down, four to go. He had a feeling that it wouldn't really be that long before he could actually tolerate that prat, Ron, too.  
  
"So, anyway, I still need another wizard and a healer. I know you're a Master Healer, Gin, and you wouldn't be paid what you're worth. At least not at first. But the perks are great, housing is free, and the work is exciting. What do you say?"  
  
Ginny looked at Draco. He held out his hand and she took it.  
  
"As long as we're a team. Virginia and I stay together, right?"  
  
Bill nodded and Ginny thought her heart would burst. Draco was with her. He loved her and wanted to make a life together. Looking into his pale gray eyes she said, "Let's do it."  
  
Draco smiled. It was the most beautiful smile Ginny had ever seen and it completely melted her heart.  
  
"All right, love," he agreed. "Let's do it." 


	19. Epilogue

A/N…don't know what happened to this chapter, but it seems like half of it just sort of got zapped into nowhere. Thank goodness the story was also posted on Northern Realms (northern(dot)zapto(dot)org), so I could repost it. Since my 'puter crashed a few months ago, I don't have any of the older stories anywhere except on the internet!

Ginny stood on the lanai of the little cottage she and Draco were sharing on this job. It was wonderful to be here, on the island of Molokai, where it was never much below 72 degrees and never much above 88 degrees. Bill and his family were just down the beach, too and it felt very much like the paradise that Hawaii was touted to be.

Generally, non-residents weren't allowed on this island, but an ancient ruin was discovered recently, and after several mysterious deaths to the scientists trying to investigate, the matter was turned over to America's semi-secret Department of Magical Affairs. In conjunction with the Ministry of Magic, a team of American and British wizards and witches were assigned to discover what kind of magic was being used and break the spells. Bill's team had been chosen and were pulled from the Japanese underwater site of Yonaguni, to come to this beautiful island.

They'd gone to work for Gringott's only four months after the end of the war, had been to South America, Japan, and now, Hawaii. Ginny thought back over the last three years. She and Draco had worked hard and saved money, but it hadn't been all roses. Because of their different backgrounds and upbringings, they had fought over almost every major decision. While she knew Draco loved and respected her, he'd been brought up that the man made all the decisions, period. It had taken a long time for Draco to learn to compromise without a pitched battle.

Ginny, on the other hand, was used to bossing her brothers around, or trying to, and found that the same tactic on Draco was completely ineffective. It had taken a couple of years, but they'd both grown and learned how to work with the other for a common solution. And Ginny knew that they would probably, like most married couples, find something to argue about, but the arguments never passed a certain limit. When things looked like getting out of hand, Draco would usually stop and put his arms around her. He would take several deep breaths, then release her. After that, they would begin again, more calmly. Sometimes she was the one to 'call the time out', but either way, it worked.

Draco was on the site right now, helping Bill and the Americans write their reports to date. Ginny was grateful, since she had been wretchedly ill that morning. They weren't going into the ruins today, so they hadn't needed her there, leaving her time to recover from the horrid nausea she'd felt. She was perfectly fine now, though. But she'd done a few tests while Draco was gone, and she had a wonderful surprise for him. Ginny took a last look at the view of blue ocean, white sand and lush vegetation before turning back to start dinner. She just entered the cottage when the door opened.

"Virginia? How are you feeling, love," Draco called.

Ginny ran to greet him, once again admiring what the tropical sun did with his skin and hair. His normally pale skin was bronzed, and his silver hair was now streaked with even lighter highlights. Ginny threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss, wanting to pass on her good news. Draco held her waist and returned the kiss, deepening it.

Ginny shivered in excitement. She didn't know if all couples still felt this excited after three years, but she hoped she would feel this way for the next thirty years! But she was getting side tracked. She had some things to tell him! Pushing at his chest, Ginny backed away. Draco gave her a smoldering look that made her feel shivery inside.

"Honestly, Draco," Ginny said with a shaky laugh. "I'm trying to tell you something!"

"Tell me later," he growled, gripping her hips and pulling her hard against him.

Ginny tried one more time. "But it's important!" she whispered, but knew she was losing the battle. Her knees grew weak as he crushed her mouth beneath his in a deep searching kiss.

With a soft moan, he lifted her off the ground, still kissing her, and carried her into their bedroom. They fell onto the bed and Ginny laughed as Draco tried to attack the intricate knot that tied her beach wrap around her neck.

"Damned thing!" he muttered as the knot refused to come untied.

She laughed again and pushed his hands away, taking advantage of his momentary distraction. She sat up and crossed her legs, causing the wrap to push enticingly up her tanned thighs.

"I've got some something to tell you!" she said, grasping the hand he was running up her inner leg.

"Really?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow, but watching as his hands moved to the split in the wrap and started parting it.

"Really! Draco, you're not paying attention!"

He finally pulled his hands away and crossed his arms, an annoyed expression on his face.

"I thought I was paying quite a lot of attention!" he protested. "You seem to be feeling better than you were this morning."

Ginny ignored the petulance in his reply. "I am. AND I wanted to tell you—"

Draco took her hands and pulled her closer. "Yes, love, but is it a boy or a girl?"

Ginny pulled away with a gasp. "How on earth did you know?"

"I didn't until right now," he whispered. He pushed her back onto the bed, covering her body with his and pressing a knee between her legs. He looked at her wonderingly as he brought a hand down to caress her still-flat belly.

"You're having my baby," he breathed.

Ginny smiled up into her husband's eyes.

"I'm having OUR baby," she corrected. "I love you, Draco."

"Our baby," he repeated.


End file.
